


Fate's Charm

by Pi_Dreams



Series: The Liar, Liar Saga [1]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Angst, But mostly angst, Family Issues, Gen, Humor, Minor AU, Minor Jane Foster/Thor, POV First Person, POV Loki, Post-Avengers (2012), Prisoner Loki (Marvel), eventually Thor: The Dark World compliant (mostly), house arrest, otherwise no slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-15
Updated: 2020-09-21
Packaged: 2021-03-02 23:20:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 15
Words: 61,420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24024982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pi_Dreams/pseuds/Pi_Dreams
Summary: After his escapades in New York, Loki fully expects the Allfather to sentence him to death.  Instead, he is thrown back into the very planet he tried to rule.  With his brother watching every move he makes, the god tries to adapt to Midgard and its people.  But when he hears a mysterious child begging for help and learns that his footsteps are dogged by alien forces, he's thrown right back into battles he can't hope to win.
Relationships: Loki & Thor (Marvel), Loki (Marvel) & Original Female Character(s)
Series: The Liar, Liar Saga [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1733122
Comments: 6
Kudos: 31





	1. The Fall of the Prince

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone! I'm really excited about this. I wondered what would happen if Loki was under house arrest at Thor and Jane's and it went from a short story to what's going to be at least a two-part series. I've had way too much fun writing this and I hope you like it as well. Read on!
> 
> This work was beta'd by the amazing Scott Richards and wylanvansunshine, who are without a doubt the two most patient and fantastic individuals I've ever had the fortune to know. You guys are awesome beyond words and this story is dedicated to you.

_“Tell me a story,” I beg._

__

_My sister sighs. “What do you want to hear about?”_

__

_I bounce up and down on her bed. “Tell me about Master Arodo and the frog. Especially how you saved the day!”_

__

_She shrugs. “I’ll tell you the story if you brush my hair.”_

__

_“Deal!” I reach for the brush and begin undoing the heavy waves of hair she keeps bound up all the time. It’s our nightly ritual. She plays the reluctant, put-upon sibling, but I know better. Even Ondarev, who spends her entire life trying to prove that a low-class girl can be Tern’s best warrior, loves the art of stories our mother taught us. She never minds sharing a tale with me. I run the brush through the sleek, shocking pink strands as she begins._

__

_“Now, Ezzy, you should know that Master Arodo was a very proud man. He loved nothing more than his own reflection.” Her voice soothes me and, exhausted, I crawl into her lap and fall asleep within moments._

__

_My mother wakes me to carry me to my own room, and Ev follows. “Sleep well, little sister. I love you more than you will ever know.” She pulls my braid affectionately and then leaves with Mother, the light extinguishing itself behind her. I wriggle under the covers and sigh in pleasure. Maybe I don’t have the fanciest clothes in the clan, but I have the best sister._

******************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************

I stared down at the familiar tiles under my feet. The runes formed circular patterns, gold against the pale marble, and in that instant I wondered if I would ever see them again. As the fear clawed its way back into my throat, I lifted my head with a metallic jangle and focused instead on taking measured, steady steps onward. The chains weighed down my ankles, chafing at my wrists and throat, yet I refused to let them pull me forward. If I was to die today, I’d die like the prince of Asgard I’d always believed I was. As my mother approached me, I tipped my head rakishly and smiled. “Hello, Mother,” I said. “Have I made you proud?” 

She sighed. “Loki, don’t make this any worse.” 

“Define worse,” I commented. 

Finally, Odin, the man I’d called father nearly my entire life, stood, glaring down at me. Mother slipped away. As he recited the litany of my crimes, the part of me that still believed he could ever love me shriveled in horror. All too soon, he reached the inevitable end of his judgement. “For these crimes, Loki Laufeyson,” he began, but was interrupted by the titterings of the court. Of course they didn’t know my true parentage. I concentrated on the breath slowly entering and leaving my lungs. None of this mattered. That breath soon enough would no longer flow. “For these crimes,” the Allfather repeated, “you have been sentenced to exile. You will live under house arrest on Midgard with the crown prince Thor. The Allfather has spoken.” 

I stood rooted to the spot, paralyzed with shock. My mind stayed fixed on one word. Live. He said I’d live. I had never been so grateful for the pumping of my heart. I wasn’t going to die by Heimdall’s sword today. I was going to live. The guard grabbed my shoulders and twisted me around, forcing me out of the hall. I stumbled forward, heedless of the shackles on my feet. I was going to live. Only when I had been securely locked into a cell in the dungeon did I remember the rest of the Allfather’s words. I would be in exile, in Midgard, living with Thor. The prospect wasn’t overly appealing, but losing my head was distinctly worse. At that moment, a clear sound of footsteps carried to me and I glanced up to see my brother standing there, fury writ large on every line of his face. A guard hurried behind him and unlocked the cell, then began undoing my bindings. “Brother,” I began, but Thor rudely interrupted. 

“Shut up, Loki. You’ve done enough damage already. Jane doesn’t know what you are and we’ll keep it that way.” 

The chains fell away from my body, but before I could rise the guard seized my ankle and snapped another cuff onto it. Startled, I glanced down. I quickly realized it was a tracker. I’d seen them before. Anywhere I went from now on, my position would be monitored. I could never hide or escape. Trackers never came off. I’d seen ones monitoring the bodies of criminals dead hundreds of years. I wasn’t used to being outsmarted and it hurt. Thor grabbed my arm and propelled me out the door. “Move it,” he growled. “I’m not going to be late for dinner on your account.” The unaccustomed weight at my ankle made walking distinctly odd. Before too long, however, we’d reached the Bifrost. Heimdall nodded to Thor and opened the bridge. As we stepped in, he shot one last warning my way. “I’m watching you. If you put one toe out of line….” He trailed off threateningly, stroking his thumb along the hilt of his sword. Then Thor and I dove into the rainbow and he was lost from view. 

We landed in a rosebush. I cursed Heimdall silently and attempted to remedy the damage, but there wasn’t much I could do. Picking thorns out of one’s legs is a challenge at best, and impossible when one is being dragged down a gravel path by a very much stronger opponent. “Thor!” I complained. “Slow down a moment. I’ve got thorns everywhere.” To my astonishment, Thor actually stopped. Unfortunately, he then grabbed my throat and pinned me to a nearby wall. 

“I don’t care about your thorns,” he growled. “You will keep your nose clean, understand? Jane knows you’re my renegade brother. She knows you nearly destroyed New York. She knows you’re a deceitful, lying-” 

“You flatter me, brother,” I interrupted, but Thor shook me violently. 

“She doesn’t know about your magic, and she doesn’t know you’re an… _abomination_.” He hissed the last words. “Any tricks, and I know you, Loki, you’ll try- any tricks and you’re back in Asgard, facing Heimdall’s sword for breaking the terms of your exile. Now, a word to the wise. You’re on the mortal police’s record now. They will know if you do anything. Father will know. I will know. You’re here for good, whether you like it or not. Got it?” He dropped me, the cuffed ankle catching awkwardly. The weight just reminded me how trapped I was. I nodded, the sensation of defeat sinking in. Thor grabbed my arm again and continued to drag me forwards. I hurried to keep up, my boots skidding in the gravel. The path led behind a modest home to a back door surrounded by potted flowers. Thor opened the door and smiled grimly. “After you, brother.” 

I stepped into a small kitchen and glanced around quickly. A table with four chairs sat near a wide window. A few steps away, a counter ringed two walls, kitchen appliances covering it. A pretty young woman washed dishes at the sink, but turned when she heard the door. “Thor!” she called. “Wash up, won’t you? Dinner will be in fifteen minutes.” My brother smiled and crossed the room to kiss her cheek. 

“Give me a moment, Jane. I have some work to do.” Jane saw me for the first time. She went rigid, then strode towards me. I smiled disarmingly, but before I could introduce myself she slapped me across the face. My head jerked back and I tasted blood. 

“That was for New York,” she snarled. “and this-” she slapped me again- “is for trying to kill Thor.” I shook my head to clear it, then grinned at Thor. 

“I like her.” 

Jane glared at me for a moment, then went back to the sink, scrubbing furiously at a plate that was, as best I could tell, perfectly clean. Thor rested his hand on her shoulder for a moment, then jerked his head towards an archway that led to a sitting room. 

“Follow me, Loki,” he sighed. “I’ll take you to your room.”

My room was upstairs, over the kitchen. When I opened the door I noticed two things immediately. First, the room had a very impressive view over the backyard. Second- I blinked, then turned to Thor. “Brother, the door seems to have a minor flaw. The room is truly lovely, but there isn’t a doorknob on the inside.” 

“Really?” he responded. “How odd. Maybe you’d better take a closer look.” 

I rolled my eyes. “Very funny. Lock me away without dinner? At least Heimdall would have killed me quickly.” Thor snorted and walked inside. The room really was lovely, surprisingly spacious with a bed in one corner, a window along the wall, and then a pair of doors. On further investigation, I learned that a closet sat behind the first door, and a small bathroom lay next to it. The walls were a clear green tone, the furniture light wood, and the bedspread and carpeting a dark forest shade. I also had an armchair and a bookshelf, and I promptly sat down in the former to remove the thorns. “Thor,” I said, glancing up, “This really is a very fancy prison. The only thing that might improve it would be a second doorknob.” 

Thor returned the look. “Prison? All I see is a bedroom.” I sighed, pulling out the last few thorns. He smirked and led the way back downstairs, clearly convinced he’d gotten the better of me. 

The table was laid with a white cloth, a pot steaming softly in the middle. Somehow, Jane contrived to leave a seat between the two of us, so that I was isolated at the end. The soup was delicious, chunks of chicken and vegetable bobbing in a savory broth, but each time I tried to express my admiration, Thor kicked me under the table. I found this very rude, though judging by the glares Jane kept shooting my way, silence was likely my best option. I had never been at such an awkward dinner. Jane barely spoke to Thor, who kept trying to start a conversation. Yet every time I opened my mouth to respond, he kicked me. After the meal finally ended, I decided to follow them into the sitting room. They finally began talking again, but were discussing some finding or other of hers. As I couldn’t join the conversation, I decided to explore. Cataloguing the downstairs rooms was simple. One kitchen, one sitting room, one bathroom, and a room filled with screens and assorted equipment that were probably Jane’s, although the Stairmaster in the corner likely wasn’t. My brother did have some odd tastes. Upstairs, there was a central hallway off which branched another office-like room, another bathroom, and what had to be Jane and Thor’s bedroom. The bed was the only other one in the house, it was clearly large enough, and Mjolnir hung on a hook by the door. I backed out and proceeded into the only other spot I could- my room. 

The shelves held a few likely candidates for entertaining reading- a handful of science books, a couple of romance novels, and a volume entitled The Gospel of Loki that interested me immediately. Before I could pull it out, however, Thor’s voice floated up to me. “Loki! Where are-” He cut off, and I heard Jane’s voice murmuring to him. I sat down to read. Thor opened the door a few moments later. 

“You could have knocked,” I noted acidly, but he simply knelt beside me. 

“Listen well, brother. Look here. This is you.” I looked, and saw a blue dot pulsing on a cellphone screen. The dot was surrounded by what I realized were ghostly images of the walls of the house. 

“I am currently a glowing dot? I really thought I was at least slightly better looking.” 

“Don’t joke about this, Loki. That dot is the tracker on your ankle.” I glanced down before I could stop myself. Thor didn’t seem to notice. “You can see the boundaries where you’re allowed to be.” He zoomed out the screen, and the dot was soon surrounded by glowing red lines. “If you go past these lines, which denote the house and garden, I will be alerted. Don’t do that.” 

“So basically, I’m trapped in a house with two people who hate me. I can’t leave or you’ll kill me. You may kill me anyway, but that’s beside the point.” 

He gave me a flat look. “What did you think ‘house arrest’ meant, idiot?” 

“I was under the impression that the house was grounded,” I quipped. 

Thor stood up. “Sleep well, Loki. And knock off the smart comments. Jane may yet hit you with a frying pan.” He closed the door behind him, and I remembered yet again the missing doorknob. 

With nothing else to do, I changed into the pajamas hanging in the closet, which was far more of an ordeal than I expected. The tracker pinned my boot to my leg; it took a while to work off that shoe. Finally, I pulled on the pajamas, turned out the light, and fell into bed. Sleep was a long time in coming. Odin’s face kept swimming through my mind, disgust written plain on every feature. Then it was Heimdall, then Thor. Then Mother, too, scowled down at me. “I taught you magic, Loki, so you would be your brother’s equal. This is how you repay me?” Finally, blissfully, they faded away and I fell into sleep.

I did not have restful dreams. Odin himself appeared at the door and demanded to take me back to Asgard for execution. Mother looked at me as I walked past her in chains and said, “Did you ever think for an instant that I loved you as a son? That you ever could have been equal to Thor? No, no Frost Giant could ever have come close to the love I have for my true son.” Then Heimdall swung his great sword and I woke up shaking, my face oddly wet. The faint grey light of dawn glimmered through the windows. I forced myself to breathe. _She loves you, Loki_ , I thought. _She truly does_. But none of the words of comfort I’d whispered to myself for years calmed me. 

Only then did I realize my ankle was throbbing. I looked at it in confusion, and saw that I had slept oddly, cutting off bloodflow to the lower leg. It had swelled in response, so that the tracker bit into my skin, causing painful red welts. I stood up and limped over to the light switch, both legs threatening to buckle at any moment. The clock mounted on the wall read five-thirty-eight when I switched on the light. No chance, then, that someone would have opened the door for me already. I checked anyway, and found to my surprise that it was open. Jane must be an early riser. My brother would never think to get up early so that I could. The clothes that I’d been wearing last night were gone, presumably also taken by Jane. I shrugged and slipped into one of the Midgard outfits in the closet, a black hooded shirt and jeans, then hobbled downstairs. By the time I reached the kitchen, both legs had more or less regained their normal function.


	2. Cake

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again! This chapter's mostly cute brotherly stuff, and I hope you enjoy.

_I stand at the window and watch Ev and her best friend Damaret spar. They’re both so graceful, their long hair whipping as they duck and spin and dance the blades together and apart again. Aret isn’t very nice to me, but I don’t care. Even if Ev now calls me Kay-Kay like everyone else. Aret is a distant cousin of the royal house, and their friendship could get my family far. Especially since they’re so close that they’re no longer Ondarev and Damaret around each other or even Ev and Aret but a single entity. Ev-Aret. Everett. My sister smiles so much each time she hears the name that I can’t help but feel pleased as well. I still miss the way she told me stories at night, though. Now she and Aret just laugh about the other students and throw pillows at me if I get close enough to hear. At seventeen, she should have someone to love and love her back that isn’t an eight-year-old kid sister. I’m smart enough to know that. And it doesn’t hurt anymore when her gaze skips over me. Not really._

***************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************

Jane stood alone at the sink, a soapy rag in one hand, a pot in the other. _Ah_ , I thought. _A chance to endear myself with my host._ I stepped over to her and gently tugged the pot from her grip, then held my hand out for the rag. She frowned at me but handed it over. I began scrubbing at the bits of broccoli baked onto the bottom. We stood in silence for a while, the only sounds the water running over the pot as I periodically rinsed it before washing it again. Finally, Jane spoke. “You’re an early riser.” 

I nodded, not daring to look up. “Thor used to find it very amusing to lock the door to my rooms when we were little. I don’t know why, since it never particularly bothered me and Mother always found out and sent someone to deal with it. Of course, when I did the same thing to him, it was hilarious. Instead of waiting, he smashed the door open with Mjolnir. He was in so much trouble.” I stopped. No need to keep talking any further. She’d likely just get mad. When I glanced up, though, her eyes sparkled with humor. 

“How about this,” she said. “I’ll let you out early, like today, and in return you don’t lock Thor in our room. I rather like that door.” 

I chuckled. “I will be happy to abide by that.” The pot shone silver now, so I rinsed my hands, then dried the pot and held it out. She took it, walked over to a lower cabinet, and put it away. 

“Would you mind helping with breakfast?” she asked. “Feeding Thor is an undertaking.” 

I nodded again. “That it is. I’d be glad to help.” Really, I was glad to avoid getting slapped again and didn’t dare refuse.

Helping cook breakfast generally consisted of stirring some sort of batter and, of course, washing more dishes. As Jane poured the batter onto a griddle, I couldn’t hold back my curiosity. “What are you making?” 

She gave me an odd look. “Pancakes? Why are you- oh. Asgardian. What do you usually eat for breakfast?” 

I shrugged. “Fruit, porridge, bread, cheese, bacon, lots of things. But never pancakes.” As the pancakes cooked, Jane scrambled eggs and fried bacon. I washed yet more dishes. The food smells became overwhelming and my stomach growled in anticipation. Right on cue, Thor wandered into the kitchen. “Jane, that smells amazing. Thank you.” He bent over and kissed her. 

I huffed in irritation. “Can I have a kiss too? I’ve been helping, you know.” 

Thor glanced up. “Shut up, Loki.” 

“Good morning, brother,” I replied. In a few minutes the pancakes were ready, and Jane sent me to eat. I watched carefully as Thor put butter and a thick brown liquid on his and repeated the process. 

Pancakes should really be served in Asgard. They are the true food of the gods. When I first tasted the sugary, soft delicacy I was instantly transported beyond Valhalla. It was all I could do not to wolf my breakfast down like my brother. When I finished, I brought my plate to the sink and went back to washing dishes. Jane gave me another odd look. It seemed to be her preferred facial expression. “Have you eaten enough?” she asked. I nodded, smiled politely, and went back to washing dishes. It seemed to be a reasonable course of action, but she caught my arm as I was rinsing a whisk. “I feel confident you can learn to turn pancakes.” She led me over to the griddle and showed me how to pour the batter into circles, turn the cakes at the halfway point, and get them neatly onto a plate. 

“These ‘pancakes’,” I declared, “honestly are the first truly brilliant Midgardian invention I’ve ever seen.” 

Thor shook his head. “Brother, you’ve never tried coffee. It is even better than pancakes.” I looked at him in mild astonishment. 

“Does coffee have tasty syrup dripping off it? Is it glorious and fluffy?” 

Jane laughed. “I’m glad you like my pancakes, Loki. And no, coffee is a drink. It is neither syrupy nor fluffy. Not usually, at least.” 

I sighed. “Then this coffee cannot be nearly as good as pancakes.” Thor opened his mouth to respond, but Jane cut him off. 

“Enough, you two. Thor, that Walmart run won’t happen on its own. I have work to do. Loki, head upstairs-” 

“Just a moment!” I interjected. “Are you really planning to shut me away in the very posh prison upstairs you call a bedroom?” 

Jane looked at me coldly, the earlier amusement gone. “Yes. Get going.” 

Thor followed me upstairs. “Bad move, Reindeer Games.” 

“What?” I yelped. “Why are you calling- how did you learn-” 

“I’ve spent far too much time around Stark. Rubs off after a while.” We’d reached my room. “See you later. You’ll get out when I get back.” 

“Why, if I may ask, am I being shut up like an ill-behaved puppy?” 

Thor scowled. “Seeing what you did to an entire city, it’s no wonder Jane doesn’t want you wandering loose in the house. I will see you when I come back.” He pushed me inside and shut the door in my face. I ran my fingers over the smooth inner surface of the door, feeling the place where the handle should have been. There wasn’t a way to get out. The tracker thunked against the bedpost as I sat down heavily. I was imprisoned as surely as if I was back in the dungeons at Asgard, and it was frustrating. 

I remembered the book I’d seen earlier and grabbed it, curling up in the armchair. The story wasn’t about me exactly. It was a version of the myths surrounding Asgardians, told by the character they knew as Loki. I found it highly entertaining, albeit inaccurate. When Thor returned an hour later, I didn’t even notice until he put his hands on either side of the chair. “What have you got there, brother?” he said softly. 

I looked around and found him. “Book.” 

“I got that much. Want to go for a walk?” he replied calmly. 

“I thought I wasn’t allowed to leave the house,” I countered. 

“I’ll be with you. It’ll be fine.” 

“Says the person who is under neither constant surveillance nor the threat of death. I’ll stay here.” 

“Suit yourself.” My brother left the room, pulling the door to behind him without closing it. I appreciated the gesture, even if I didn’t plan on leaving soon. Book-Loki had just convinced Book-Thor to dress up like a girl. This was going to be hilarious.

The scene ended predictably. Thor got all the glory and Loki’s contributions went unnoticed. I wandered downstairs to see what was happening. Thor was playing a video game in the sitting room. The door to the lower office was closed, so I assumed Jane was still working. I sat on the sofa by my brother, watching his avatar slash its way through undead evil creatures. “You should have equipped it with a hammer,” I said, deadpan. 

Thor looked over, and his character fell off a cliff. “Brother, I do think you’re right. Want to play?” He offered me an extra controller. 

I smiled. “Why not?” 

When Jane found us three hours later for lunch, we were fighting our way through Level Seventeen together much like we did as children, battling the illusions I conjured in my bedroom. She ruffled Thor’s hair affectionately and brought us sandwiches, but it took a while for us to get to them. We still had to kill the giant zombie king, after all. I missed those days in Asgard, two spoiled princes running amok. We played tricks on each other and the staff, fought, laughed- 

“Loki!” My character barely had enough time to jump over a small fissure before reengaging with the boss once again. Finally, the giant zombie died. We clinked our plates and began to eat. Thor munched for a few moments then looked up at me. “Loki,” he began, “there’s one thing I don’t understand. In New York-” 

I cut him off. “Brother, we’ve just vanquished the greatest evil in this house- together. Let’s leave it there.” I picked up my now-empty plate and walked into the kitchen. I had no desire to discuss New York, my failed coup of Asgard, or anything that had happened in between. Thor would never know about Sanctuary, or the evil that demanded the Tesseract. He didn’t need to; I had no desire to be pitied. I set my plate beside the sink and went outside to sit on the back porch, as far from Thor as I could get without going back upstairs. He could find me easily, of course, but I counted on his innate decency to give me some privacy. 

The day was warm, with a light breeze. I stretched my legs out onto the path, gazing towards the squashed rosebush I’d landed in yesterday. It had clearly once been very lovely, which made it all the sadder that Heimdall had aimed poorly. I’m fairly sure I fell asleep against the side of a plant pot at that point, because the next thing I knew, Jane was sitting on the porch as well. “You have dirt in your hair,” she noted. I reached up and brushed it out, unsure as to how it got there. “Thor told me you two… um, argued.” 

“Thor would be wrong,” I stated firmly. “If we had actually argued, the house wouldn’t be standing. Besides, I left before it could escalate anyway.” 

Jane nodded, then stood uncertainly. “If you want it, there’s a hammock in the garage. I could set it up for you.” 

I had no idea of what a ‘hammock’ might be and wasn’t in any mood to try to figure it out. “No, thank you.” She nodded again and went inside. I went back to pondering the dilapidated rosebush. 

Frustrated, I got up and walked over to the gate, resting my palms on the white wooden curves. I wanted to open it and just walk away. As my hand stole towards the latch, a car shot by, music blaring from the open windows. I stepped back in surprise and hit my ankle on a rock. The metallic thud brought me back to my senses. Going past that gate would result in certain death. I grimaced and headed inside. My attempt to slip through the kitchen unnoticed failed abysmally. Jane heard the door and set me to chopping vegetables for dinner. My irritation at this kitchen-drudge chore was tempered by the fact that Thor was already washing dishes. Clearly I wasn’t the only one caught up in the never-ending task. Jane took the knife from me a few minutes later. “Loki, you’re going to keel over and impale yourself. Go shower or something.” I rolled my eyes at Thor, but left anyway. I was not about to impale myself on a kitchen knife, or fall over, but I did need to clean up, so I headed upstairs. I must have slept even more poorly the night before than I’d thought, because I’d barely sat down on my bed when I fell backwards into a deep sleep. 

It was dark out when Thor woke me up by sitting down on the bed. “Very impressive shower,” he chuckled. 

I rolled over groggily. “Hassa Jotun tack murruh?” I mumbled. At least, that’s what Thor claims I said. He shook my shoulder until I sat up. 

“Dinner is downstairs getting cold. Also, what about Jotuns?” 

“Nothing about Jotuns… and why did you wake me up?” 

Thor grimaced embarrassedly. “Well, Jane was all for locking you in your room without dinner, but I decided that was cruel. So. Dinner?” 

“Will you bring it up?” I asked, my jaws creaking in an enormous yawn. “Since I need to shower. I’ll see you in a few minutes.” I hurried into the bathroom, trying to wash up quickly lest I crack my head on the tile. True to my word, I was back in my room ten minutes later, running a brush through my hair. Thor tromped in with a plate of mush of uncertain origin. I eyed it warily. “You could just cut off my head. That would be easier than poisoning me.” 

“It’s polenta, you moron. It’s a mortal food. Also, there’s chicken and green beans to go with it.” I narrowed my eyes at him, but took the proffered plate and fork. While ‘polenta’ wasn’t anywhere near as amazing as pancakes, it was reasonably tasty and quite filling. I finished my dinner and handed the dishes back to Thor. 

“Goodnight, room service. I shall see you in the morning.” He snorted and left. The door clicked shut behind him. I stretched and walked over to the dark window. My reflection stared back at me. Although the shower must have helped, I looked horrible. My cheeks were hollow, my eyes sunken. I grimaced at the reflection, turned out the light, and crawled into bed, under the covers this time. _Amazingly, Loki_ , I thought, _threats of death and torture seem to get to you. There’s obviously no good explanation for your appearance. No reason at all._ Then I wondered, _Does Mother worry about me? Does she track where I am like Thor does?_ On that oddly comforting note, I relaxed and fell asleep again.

If you ever spend most of an afternoon sleeping, don’t go to bed early. I was awake in only a few hours, staring at the numbers on the clock. My stomach was rumbling, although I’d eaten before bed. The door was closed, even though I could hear Jane and Thor’s voices downstairs. I shivered and pulled the bedclothes up around me. Perhaps if I turned on the light, they’d notice it when they came up. I flipped the light switch, then, in a stroke of brilliance, began thumping the tracker into solid objects, producing disturbingly loud clangs. _Note to self:_ I thought, _don’t trip and hit that on anything when you’re trying to be quiet._ The voices ceased abruptly. I heard soft footsteps on the stairs, then Jane opened the door just as I hit my foot on the corner of the bookshelf. “Yeowch! Ah, hi!” I hopped over one-legged. 

“Loki, what in the name of all that’s holy were you doing?” she demanded. 

“I walked into a bookshelf,” I admitted. “Now, please let me out, because I’m starving and will soon perish without a snack!” I set my foot down gingerly. 

She rolled her eyes. “Next time, ask, don’t beat up on innocent furniture.” She walked back downstairs while I limped in her wake. 

“Loki got the midnight snackies,” she told Thor. “So he walked into a bookshelf to alert us.” Thor fell over laughing. 

“It wasn’t like that,” I protested. “I couldn’t get out on my own, so I made certain you’d investigate.” 

“By... walking... bookshelf... snackies...” Thor was incoherent with laughter. 

Jane pointed to the kitchen. “If you’re so hungry, go eat.” 

I hurried out of the room, Thor chortling behind me. To my dismay, they had eaten dessert without me, judging by the partially eaten cake in the icebox. I cut myself a large slice, grabbed a fork from the drainboard, and reentered the sitting room. Jane glanced over at me. “Oh, you two are so related. Cake, as a snack.” Thor and I gave her identical confused looks. 

“Of course. It’s delicious,” I replied. Well, I tried to say that. With my mouth newly full of cake, it came out more like “Off courff. Iff durfurfuff,” which sent my brother back into hysterics. I swallowed and continued. “Also, we’re not related.” I gave Thor a disgusted look. “Thankfully. I’m adopted, but two people can both like cake without any relation between them.” She looked at me with her preferred odd expression. 

“You call each other brother, though.” 

I shrugged. “Old habits die hard. Grow up together and you begin to think you really are related. Actually, I did think we were until a year or so ago.” Thor gave me a warning glare, although the tears in his eyes made it distinctly unthreatening. Still, I decided a change of subject was in my interest. “Now, if you will excuse me, fair lady, I must go back to bed and my… brother… probably needs the same.” I swept a dramatic bow, holding my cake up high, then hastened back up the stairs into the doorway of my room. I watched Jane, laughing softly, chivvy Thor into bed before coming over and closing my door. Distraction successful. I sat on the bed to finish the cake, put the plate on the floor, then walked carefully over to the armchair, picked up my book, and began to read. My eyes soon became heavy, and I fell asleep yet again, curled up in the armchair. This time I didn’t wake until Jane cracked open the door in the morning.

“Good... morning,” I yawned, stretching my arms, then cracking my back. I was stiff, but sleeping curled up in a chair does that to everyone. 

“Hello, you,” Jane responded. I stood up and turned to face her, smiling faintly. 

“I’m fairly sure that I actually have a name, so why people avoid using it is beyond me.” 

She grinned sardonically. “No comment. I’m off for a walk, but I figured you’d be awake and would like a shower.” 

I lifted an eyebrow. “The puppy is permitted to roam the house now? No fears that it’ll widdle on the floor or something?” 

“I’ll lock you back up if you prefer. Now, in or out?” 

“I still think you’re convinced I’m a puppy,” I muttered as I grabbed clean clothes and headed for the door. She caught my arm as I passed her. 

“Loki, I’ll be back in fifteen minutes. Do behave yourself.” I sketched a quick bow in her direction and made a beeline for the shower. 

The hot water flowing over my sore muscles felt wonderful. I hadn’t had a proper shower in ages, and I washed my hair several times for the simple glory of standing under the water as long as I wanted. Finally, the water grew cold, so I stepped out, dried off and dressed, and attended to my hair. Although I’d brushed it last night, it had tangled fiercely, and it took me several minutes to tease out all the knots. I pulled it back neatly, checked my reflection in the mirror- a failed attempt due to the clouds of steam- and headed downstairs. “Took you long enough. Oh, you clean up nicely,” Jane noted in amusement. 

I sighed. “Great. Now the puppy has been given a bath and won’t be allowed outside.” She opened her mouth to respond, but an enraged bellow echoed down the stairs. “LOKI!” 

“What did you do?” Jane asked resignedly. 

“I may have used up… all the hot water,” I admitted. “Loki!” she laughed. “How does Thor know it was you, though?” 

“Well, the lack of hot water isn’t exactly uncommon around me. We grew up in a palace, yet somehow I still made him bathe in cold water regularly.” I winked and slipped outside. 

The morning was cold, the sun not risen long. I wandered around the yard, trying to see more than I already had of Midgard. I was disappointed. On two sides, roads ran just next to the house, with more, identical houses along them. On another side, a high fence obstructed my view of the neighbor’s house, and the fourth side of the yard contained Thor and Jane’s wall. I cast one last look around, searching for anything more interesting, failed dismally, and stepped back inside. Thor glared at me. “Well, if someone doesn’t look spiffy,” he complained sourly. 

“A fine morning to you too,” I shot back, sitting down to pick the grass off my feet. 

Jane sighed. “Thor, give it over. You’re going to have to wait for a hot shower. But you can empty the dishwasher for me. And Loki, please no baiting. Also, what’s the deal with your aversion to shoes?” 

As Thor huffed himself over to the black cabinet-like object in the corner, I stared at Jane in confusion. “My… aversion to shoes?” I repeated. 

“You arrived in a pair of boots, but you took those off after dinner that night and haven’t worn any since.” I blinked, shock and gratification flooding through me. She’d paid attention to my outfit, despite the fact that she’d seemed to want to kill me. 

Hurriedly, I gathered my thoughts. “Well, I only have that one pair here, and it’ll be a trick getting them on. See-” I lifted the hem of my pants to display my cuffed ankle. “It’s not an easy task to work anything under that.” 

Jane knelt next to me, running her cool fingers around the rim of the tracker. “Does it, well, hurt, or anything?” 

I shook my head. “It’s not tight enough to cut into the skin. It literally can’t come off, though, so I’m really hoping I never get an itch there.” 

Thor grunted, looking up from the plates. “It shouldn’t come off. The point is that it monitors criminals’ whereabouts so they aren’t tempted to try to fake their own death, then cause mayhem.” He glared at me. Criminal. Even though I knew it was technically accurate, the label still rankled. 

“True enough. But it can get a bit gruesome. Remember that one time when we used a tracker to dig up that skeleton of- who was he again- Sven Redhand? He’d been dead for a couple hundred years.” 

Thor stared down at me. “And in a while longer, I’ll do the same with your corpse.” 

Jane blanched. “Thor, that is disgusting. Finish up with the dishes and go find somewhere else to be unpleasant. Loki, put on a pair of Thor’s sneakers. We’re going shopping.” 

“No I’m not,” I negated just as Thor stated “No he isn’t.” 

She looked at us in irritation. “Loki needs shoes he can actually wear. Why shouldn’t he come with me? It makes fitting much easier.” 

I looked at her pityingly. “Do you perhaps remember the conversation we just had? I don’t fancy my chances of survival if I leave the property.” Thor smiled grimly. I lowered my gaze to the floor, face neutral. No, if I left the yard there would be no doubt Odin would send someone or something after me. He wouldn’t let a dangerous war criminal wander around Midgard. I’d barely escaped death only two days ago and wasn’t interested in risking my neck again so soon. Especially not for a pair of shoes.

Jane pressed her lips together. “Fine. We’ll discuss this later. Loki, put on Thor’s shoes anyway.” I slipped my feet into Thor’s oversize shoes and followed her outside. She led me behind the house to a shed. I looked at her warily. “Jane…” 

“Calm down. You’re still on our property. Hold this.” She pushed a spring-loaded metal door towards me. I took it from her and watched as she pulled a large, fearsome machine from the shed. She closed the door and wheeled the machine out to the yard. “Loki, this is a lawnmower. It trims the grass nice and short so that nobody trips in it.” I stared at the hulking object. 

“Please don’t tell me you want me to use it,” I muttered. 

She continued as though she hadn’t heard me. “You run it back and forth in rows across the grass, like this.” 

Jane bent down and grabbed the metal cord dangling from the ‘lawnmower’, yanking it ferociously. It growled to life, but she didn’t seem worried at all. She gripped the handle protruding from the top and pushed forwards. The beast sent grass flying every which direction, but I could see a clear path where the lawn was shorter. She reached the edge of the fence, turned neatly, and came back. “Your turn,” she said, proffering the handle. I was tempted to back up, but I could see Thor watching through the window. Warily, I placed my hands where hers had been and pushed. The lawnmower jerked erratically off to one side. “Keep it straight!” she called. I bent my head and heaved to bring the beast into alignment, but I overcorrected and it swung the other direction. I tried again and succeeded on bringing it onto a more or less parallel course to the ones Jane had made. Unfortunately, at that point I hit the fence. I hauled back and forced the thing to a stop, panting. Turning, I saw the bizarre, many-branched track I’d created all over half the yard. Jane waved encouragingly at me. “Bring it back!” I seized the handle and rotated the machine on one wheel, eyeing the vicious blades whirring underneath.

The second attempt went better than the first. The line actually ran reasonably straight. Sadly, it was perhaps a meter from where it was supposed to be. I sighed in frustration. Jane walked by me, heading for the porch. “You got this. I’ll be in the house if you need me.” I groaned and shoved at the monster again, turning it onto a course reasonably close to where it needed to be. This time, I lined it up with Jane’s tracks and pushed gently. The machine didn’t budge. I pushed harder, and it rolled across the lawn generally in the direction I wanted it to go. I was so surprised that I forgot to clutch the handle, pressing forward only with the heels of my hands. The lawnmower cut one neat, straight line right where it was supposed to. I grabbed at the handle again before it could go through the fence, then jerked it around, gazing at the new line in near astonishment. I tried the same tack again, lining up the wheels with where I wanted it to go before applying a smooth, steady force. The fourth run went just as well as the third, adding another clean-cut line to hide my earlier mess. “Take that, foul beast,” I muttered at the machine, then turned to finish cutting the rest of the yard. 

The cool morning was blazing hot by the time I finished, and my sweaty feet slid in the oversized shoes. I dropped the now slippery handle and glanced over the yard, breathing heavily. I’d missed a few clumps of grass, but was in no state to try and cut them. I walked into the kitchen and stood against the wall, my hair plastering itself to my face. Jane turned from where she was rinsing lettuce. “Loki! Get a glass of water before you pass out!” 

“Hot,” I murmured, slumping forwards. She sat me down in a chair and pressed a cup of ice water into my hand. I tilted my head back and gulped it down, then hissed as a headache exploded into life. I clenched the edge of the table with one hand, fingertips of the other pressing into my forehead. She rolled her eyes. 

“Maybe you shouldn’t do that, dolt,” she sighed, then slipped on her shoes and went outside. I turned to the window and watched her flip a switch on the lawnmower to turn it off, then wheel it out of sight, presumably putting it back in the shed. 

I removed Thor’s shoes, setting them by the door, then wandered into the sitting room, where I fell onto the couch, exhausted. Midgard must have some weird aura that tires everyone, because I took a nap again. I never nap. It’s boorish and unattractive. When Thor’s friends do it, they sprawl all over some innocent piece of furniture, drooling and snorting and snoring, mouths hanging wide open. I prefer to appear dignified whenever possible, and napping is anything but. Despite that, I was unused to the physical exertions of wielding a lawnmower in the baking heat and my body needed the rest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I hope you had fun reading! Again, I'll try to post the third chapter within a week. There is a weird formatting thing that I noticed with Chapter 1- the Archive doesn't seem to want to recognize that this work has words in it. Anybody knows why it's doing that or how to fix it, send me a comment and I'll try to straighten it out.


	3. To Stain the Stones

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promised angst, didn't I? Well, I guess it's time to deliver. Have fun reading!

_Ev sits at her bedroom window, a lit candle beside her. It’s far too late for me to be up, but I can’t sleep and I know what she’s doing. She’s staring out into the darkness, waiting for the flashes of light that will tell her Aret’s okay, that she’s well. I haul myself up beside her and press my small hand into her large callused one. Everyone says that I look like her in miniature, but I don’t. Ev’s skin is subtly lighter, the color of late evening rather than my midnight blue. Where her eyes are a bright amber, mine are a pale, grayish green. We still walk alike, speak alike, laugh alike, as though no matter how hard she tries to ignore me, the universe declares we are sisters. She squeezes my hand just once, gently, then resumes her still vigil, waiting for a sign we’re both afraid won’t come._

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I dreamed of Asgard, of the fountain in my mother’s courtyard. I was a child again, sitting by her side as she demonstrated a basic principle of magic. “See, Loki,” she murmured, “magic is just changing the way things look, bending light to do your will.” She scooped a handful of water, then threw it over me. As I flinched, I realized that there was no water. I touched her hand wonderingly. It wasn’t even wet. “Changing the way things look,” she repeated, fading away. I was left alone in the empty courtyard, now an adult. Boots rang out on the stones around me. I glanced up and saw an army of guards gathering around me, weapons drawn. I made to rise, but the shackles on my wrists and ankles prevented me from moving. I swallowed and felt the cold collar again, tight against my throat. 

_When had I been chained?_ I wondered, my breath coming in bursts. _How?_ Heimdall strode into the courtyard, sword slung over his back. I screamed in fear. I couldn’t die. Not now. Where had Mother gone? I scanned the archways around me, metal clanking on metal as I turned my head. There was nobody except the guards, standing still as stone. “Please,” I begged. “Please. I did nothing. I’m… I’m in Mother’s courtyard and… and the blood would stain the stones! Don’t. Don’t kill me. Please!” 

Tears streamed down my face as I forced myself as far back as the chains would allow, but Heimdall was merciless. He strode forwards, and as I screamed again, for Mother, for Thor, Odin, anybody who might listen, he grabbed my chin and forced a metal gag into my mouth. It expanded around my lower jaw and skull, silencing me completely. He grabbed the chain under the collar, hauling upwards, and I could suddenly stand, but he kept pulling up, until my toes just brushed the ground. I dangled, helpless, from the collar at my throat. His gold eyes bored into mine for an eternity, and then he threw me backwards. I landed in a tiny, dark cell, my head brushing one end, my feet the other. I was alone, and nobody would ever find me. The gag pulled across my face, restricting my breathing. A lump dug into my back, and a voice came out of the darkness. “Loki? Loki?” I screamed for help again despite the gag, certain this was some new torture, but an unseen hand shook my shoulder. “Loki! Wake up! Open your eyes.” I realized they were squeezed shut and opened them. 

I was on the floor of the sitting room. Thor knelt beside me, concern on his face. His hand must have been the one to shake me; it still rested on my shoulder. Jane stood white-faced behind him. My breath came in ragged gasps as my hands flew to my face, running along my jawline just to check. The gag was gone. “What… happened?” I asked. 

Thor ran the back of his hand over my forehead. “We’d planned to ask you that question.” 

Jane nodded. “You were asleep on the couch, and then you screamed like someone was trying to kill you,” she whispered. 

I laughed shakily. “Not too far off. Then what? I’m not on the couch anymore.” 

“Well, you fell off because you were thrashing so hard. You kind of threw yourself backwards and landed on the floor. You were crying and calling out in some language I couldn’t understand, but I heard ‘Thor’ and got him. He woke you up and- yeah. It was scary.” 

I wiped the tears and snot off my face with the back of my hand. “Well, I’m sorry for scaring you. I think I’ll head upstairs for a few minutes.” I used Thor’s shoulder to stand, then walked slowly upstairs, trembling. I made it into my bathroom and washed my face, staring at my gaunt reflection in the mirror. 

The dream crashed back over me and I sank to the floor, weeping silently. I hadn’t cried like this since I was scarcely two hundred winters. It didn’t matter. I was trapped, and one day Heimdall would come and say there’d been a mistake, that I should have been executed, and then he’d slice off my head and I couldn’t do a thing about it. Heavy footsteps sounded outside the door and I shrank into a corner, trying desperately to stay silent. “Loki?” Thor’s voice was gentle and quiet. “Loki, come here for a second. I won’t hurt you.” I huddled in the corner, certain that Heimdall had arrived and I was being lured out to face my death. “Loki?” Thor called again. I heard the door close behind him. “Nobody’s about to come after you. I can protect you from whatever it is you’re scared of. Come out now, please.” He paused. I didn’t move. “I’m not leaving until I know what’s wrong. I’ll use the tracker to find you if I need to.” 

I allowed the light to bend, warping until my image as I knew it must appear stepped out of the bathroom and leaned against the wall. “Here I am, brother,” it said in my voice. The apparition was confident, despite being visibly shaken. “I had a crazy dream. That’s all. I think I’ll try for another nap if you’ll leave though.” 

I watched through the projection’s eyes as Thor nodded and knocked on the door. Jane opened it and he slipped out, letting it fall to behind him. I stood uncertainly, vanishing the double, then scooped a pillow from the bed. I curled into the corner by the bed and pressed my face into the cool, soft fabric as the sobs burst out, horrible and jarring. The pillow muffled the sounds so nobody would investigate, I knew. I’d done this often enough before. I don’t know how long I sat there, rocking back and forth, face buried in the pillow. It felt like an eternity. Finally I could breathe, and I lifted my tearstained visage to the room. Nobody had come in. I swallowed the last remnants of the lump in my throat, grabbed fresh clothes, and slid out of the bedroom into the bathroom. I showered quickly, washing the nightmare from my mind and body, before slipping on the new clothes and making my way down to the rest of the house. I wandered into the sitting room and sat down on the sofa to think.

My stomach grumbled so loudly I jumped. I remembered I’d skipped lunch and got up, walking into the kitchen. Nobody was around. I opened the icebox, pulling out the remnants of the cake to slice off another large piece. I felt I deserved it after the day I’d had. I slid the cake onto a plate and paused, listening. I didn’t hear any noises around me. No voices, no footsteps, no doors opening or closing. I looked over by the door and saw that both Jane’s and Thor’s shoes were gone. I was alone in the house. Somehow, despite the trust implicit in the realization, I felt abandoned. If I fell asleep again, nobody would wake me up when I started screaming. _You’re getting soft, Loki_ , I thought, taking a bite of cake. As I’d expected, the glorious flavor melted away the aftertaste of the dream. The door creaked open and I turned guiltily to face it, mouth full of cake. Jane came through, talking over her shoulder to Thor, arms laden with bags. I waved my fork at her and she rolled her eyes. “More cake? Honestly, Loki.” I smiled cheerfully, stuffing another bite into my mouth.

Thor followed her in, also covered in bags. I swallowed the mouthful and spoke. “Where have you been? I’ve been looking for you.” 

He set his armful down in a rush. “Shopping. With another person in the house, we visit the grocery store more often.” 

I nodded in understanding. “You let the puppy wander around while you were gone this time.” 

My brother glared at the floor. “I knew it was a bad plan, but if you had another nightmare and woke up trapped in a room, I didn’t want to be responsible for any… damage.” 

I shook my head in irritation. “I am not a mere century old anymore, Thor. It wouldn’t have been an issue.” I walked outside despite the heat, aggravated. First I had bawled like a baby, then everyone knew about my humiliation, then I was to be pitied. I wanted none of it. _Perhaps death wouldn’t have been so bad_ , I thought, but rejected the idea. _I am Loki of Jotunheim and Asgard, and I am no terrified child, to be scared of bad dreams._

I kicked at the gravel, watching it scatter. The tiny rocks felt odd underfoot, hot and cold at the same time. I realized I was still holding the cake and took another bite, savoring the sweetness. My stomach growled again and I hurriedly ate the rest, trying to quiet it. Thor came out, cake of his own in hand. He wandered over to the gate and stared out over the road. I picked up a handful of gravel, allowing it to trickle through my fingers onto the path. When the last pebbles had fallen away, I repeated the action. The motion was soothing in its repetition. Thor meandered back inside in a few minutes, scooping up my empty plate as he passed, but I continued to sift handfuls of gravel. The sky began to darken, then blazed brilliant gold and red as the sun fell behind the horizon, the air cooling in a stiff breeze. I tossed one last bunch of pebbles over the path, brushed off my hands, and went inside. I made certain to rub my feet over the mat at the door to remove the last bits of stone from the soles. 

Inside, the kitchen was warm and well-lit. Jane pulled a platter out of the oven and set it on the counter before turning. She came closer and ran her fingers through my hair with a sad expression on her face. I stepped back, unsure of how to read the look in her eyes. “Wash your hands, please, Loki. Dinner will be in five minutes.” I scrubbed at my hands under the sink, sluicing away the last of the grime of the path. When I finished, hands red and slightly raw, I sat at the end of the table, head down. Jane placed the platter onto the table, next to a gently steaming mound of asparagus, then turned to the archway. “Thor!” she bellowed up the stairs. “Food!” I allowed my lips to part in a smile as heavy footfalls thundered down the stairs and Thor himself arrived in the room. He sat down at the table across from me, eyes bright with anticipation. I laughed softly. Thor never did seem to change. The mysterious platter held a juicy roast chicken that I could only pick at. I had no appetite, knowing that I’d have to go upstairs after dinner and try to sleep. 

Jane glanced over at me. “Loki, is something wrong?” 

I shook my head and forced myself to take a bite of the asparagus. It had a tart dressing on it that eased the lump in my throat, but my stomach was too tight to take any more. I set my fork down and stared at the plate, silently wishing that I could just disappear. Then I remembered that, in fact, I could- although Thor had threatened to take me back to Asgard for any tricks I tried to pull. Death wasn’t a subject I wanted to dwell on. I focused on the crispy edge of the meat, trying to will myself to become hungry. It had no effect. I pushed back my chair and stood; Jane glanced up. “I’m very sorry, but I just can’t eat right now. I’ll be upstairs.” She nodded and made a shooing motion. 

I pulled open the window in my room and turned the armchair to face it. The breeze was cold on my face and arms, and I hugged myself as I sat down. The sky was velvety and dark, the stars distant pinpricks. “Heimdall?” I whispered softly. “I know you hate me and with everything I’ve done, I deserve it. I just want to go home. You keep trying to kill me in my dreams, and I think I’d take real death over this torture at night.” I clasped my knees to my chest and imagined Heimdall’s gold eyes watching me, his keen ears hearing my whispers. Then I shook my head. Heimdall would just laugh at me, spreading the gossip that Loki, the betrayer, son of Jotunheim, was afraid of his nightmares. I shivered violently, then stood to close the window. The cool breeze was, perhaps, just a little too cool. The snot-covered pillow I’d dropped on the floor earlier rested by my foot, and I knelt to pick it up. I stuffed it under the bed, where it wouldn’t be found quickly, then sat on the covers, legs dangling. The open doorway drew my focus, but the hallway beyond was deserted. 

My stomach clenched at the thought of being alone again, and I smiled sardonically. Most of my youth I’d spent trying to find places to be alone, places where not even Sif could find me. The younger Warriors Three had been equally boorish and self-absorbed, and they delighted in pointing out the fact that I could never beat them in a fight. Oh, I took my petty revenges, but the taunts never failed to hit home. I found places to see but stay unseen where I could watch them fall down stairs because they stepped on the patch of floor that was only an illusion, or the landing that didn’t exist. I learned to laugh silently, alone. When they tried to punish me, my brother interfered, protecting me. Even as I hated his shadow, I rarely left his side in a public place. I lived in the library, the treasure vault, the hundreds of nooks and crannies any palace has. I learned to always be the good, dutiful child on the outside, to avoid attention, to keep a smile on my face. And when they caught me, as they did occasionally, to cry silently, alone, before cleaning myself up and acting like nothing had ever happened. I spent my younger days desperate for solitude and now an empty hallway made me nervous? I laughed quietly and tossed my head. _Relax, Loki_ , I thought. _You’re safe. So long as you don’t upset him too much, Thor will protect you._

Just then a bright light blazed from the window. I spun to see the Bifrost in the grass I’d so laboriously cut that morning. “Oh, no,” I whimpered, falling to my knees. “No, no, no….” A knock sounded at the door. 

A deep voice asked a question and I heard Jane’s response. “Yes, he’s upstairs. Shall I get him for you?” I ran into the bathroom, locking the door behind me. A moment later I heard footsteps enter my room. “Loki?” Jane called. “I’m closing your door. Nothing’s wrong, so please don’t, um, freak out or anything?” I had no idea what ‘freak out’ meant, but I guessed the definition included damaging property in a doomed escape attempt, screaming for help as loudly as I could, or possibly using magic. With the door locked, nobody could reach me in the bathroom. Then I remembered Jane had said ‘get him for you’, and she’d shut me in the room. Clearly, she had been referring to Thor. I hoped. 

Within a few minutes, the door creaked open again. Heavy footsteps entered the room, paused, then came towards the bathroom door. A firm knock sounded. “Brother?” Thor’s voice asked. 

“Thor. What’s happening?” I responded warily. 

“I hate talking through doors. Heimdall’s here-” 

“WHAT?!” I shrieked in panic, scrambling away from the door. 

“-For both of us, brother. Both.” 

“I will not come out. I like my head where it is.” 

Thor sighed. “Why do you think that everyone plans to kill you, brother? I will be with you. Please don’t make me break down that door.” 

I stayed against the wall. “Why is Heimdall here? Why does he want me? I haven’t done anything wrong, no I haven’t!” 

My voice had risen to a shriek again. Thor growled, an animal sound that silenced me immediately. “Loki, open that door. No harm will come to you. I swear this to you by the throne of Asgard.” Thor’s oath sealed my decision. I flipped the lock and cracked open the door. He took over, pushing it open and catching my upper arm. I flailed wildly, trying to get away, but his grip was too strong. Finally, I hung exhausted, my breath coming in pants, my arm firmly trapped. 

“Are you quite done?” he asked. I didn’t move. He dropped my arm. “I have no idea what that was about. Honestly, Loki.” I felt too sick to respond. He set a pair of shoes at my feet. “Slide these on. You’ll want them.” 

I slipped my feet into the shoes, then glanced up at Thor. “They… actually fit. Thank you.” He nodded and lifted me upright again.


	4. Chains

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, everyone. I meant to get this posted Friday and... yeah. Didn't happen. I'm back now, though! And I hope you enjoy. I'm at least pretending that the plot has started. Also, if you think I need to add tags, just tell me. I'm sufficiently clueless with this stuff that a friend had to explain 'trigger warning' to me.

_Damaret died yesterday. Ev won’t look me in the face and I can’t blame her. I’m only barely recovering from the same fever that cost her friend her life. Why should I have survived and not Aret? So I do my best to stay out of her way and keep my head down. It isn’t hard. I’m still weak and she’s shut in her room most of the time, crying. I grieve too, though I won’t tell anyone. They would laugh at my presumption. I was neither her family nor her friend. Even so, every hour as the bells toll our loss again and again, I kneel and bow and whisper, “Ancestors, guide her spirit to your side. Damaret, help heal all those afflicted with illness. Watch over us. Protect us.” My sister sings the words in Ancestral from her chamber in a voice made broken and hoarse by sobs; I do not mourn the passing of Aret nearly as much as I mourn the loss of my sister’s happiness._

*******************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************

Thor herded me downstairs, one hand resting on my shoulder, and then into the kitchen, where he placed a restraining arm across my chest, murmuring, “Be strong, brother.” Heimdall turned his head from where he had been conversing with Jane. I straightened my back, dropped my shoulders, and tilted my head to the side, smiling lazily. “Good Heimdall, what a pleasure to see you again.” I forced the terror away, projecting confidence and control. 

He raised an eyebrow. “Thor. I take it the prisoner did not come quietly?” 

I stiffened, but Thor’s hand kept me where I was. “Heimdall. My brother Loki has not given me any trouble.” Heimdall considered this for a moment, then nodded. He turned to leave, my brother and I following. Once the door had closed behind us, he grabbed me roughly. I stood paralyzed as he wrenched my wrists together, fastening them behind me with a pair of heavy cuffs. When he twisted my jaw towards him, however, Thor intervened. “By the Ninth Realm, Heimdall, what are you doing? Loki has offered you no resistance, done nothing.” 

The merciless hands paused and I pulled my chin away. “I think he’s planning on gagging me, brother. Some seem to think I talk too much.” 

Thor glanced my way. “You do talk too much. But that doesn’t really answer my question. Heimdall, explain yourself.” 

“Loki Laufeyson is a dangerous criminal,” the deep voice rumbled, “and I am responsible for the safety of Asgard. As such, I will take the precautions I feel necessary.” 

I smiled at Thor. “I’m touched by your concern, brother, but he has a point. Your father would not be pleased if I just wandered into his capital. In chains- now that’s a different matter. Be a good boy and stay quiet, won’t you?” I flicked my gaze to Heimdall. “Do your worst,” I challenged. 

He shoved the gag in my mouth and, as it expanded over my lower face, sealing off any noise I might care to make, I stared into his golden eyes. _I am not afraid_ , the look said. I forced myself not to attempt to spit out the gag as the hard flavors of metal and, worrisomely, blood, filled my mouth. He held my gaze for a long moment, then glanced away to a sack by his feet that I hadn’t noticed before. From the bag he pulled a heavy collar with a length of chain dangling from it. I stood still, willing my heartbeat to slow down as he fastened the collar around my throat. The metal was icy cold and so tight I had difficulty swallowing. Heimdall picked up the chain and clipped it onto a leather bracelet on his wrist. I forced my shoulders down and back, letting my weight shift to one side. Between the gag and the collar, breathing was difficult, but I focused on inhaling and exhaling deeply, grounding myself. The chain was short enough that I was pulled forward as Heimdall bent to inspect my ankles. He grabbed the tracker, lifting it up to see it more closely, then dropped it, apparently satisfied. The three of us, an odd party by any measure, walked through the gate and onto the road, where Heimdall stretched his free hand to the skies.

If you’re ever planning to travel on the Bifrost- don’t. And if you’re traveling the Bifrost shackled to a thoroughly annoyed golden giant, I am sorry. Your trip will not be fun. I stepped away from Heimdall as the Bifrost roared down to us, and, because of this, was sucked into the stream just after my captor. I spent the entire trip being towed upwards by my new necklace, unable to appreciate the lovely light show all around. When we finally landed in the great golden hall, I bent forwards, attempting to reclaim my breath. Sif pulled the giant sword out of the dome in the center of the room, then glanced towards us. “Thor, it’s lovely to see you again. Heimdall, nothing weird has happened in the last ten minutes. What’s with the random sack of trash?” 

Heimdall lifted the leash to pull me upright. “Lady Sif. Although the temptation is inevitable, please avoid mocking certain persons.” As we walked past her, I winked saucily. Then Heimdall increased the pace and I was jerked forwards. 

We crossed the Bifrost quickly and approached the palace. Before we reached the gates, however, Thor stopped Heimdall with a hand on his shoulder. “Do you mind if I take Loki? He’s not about to run anywhere.” Heimdall gave him a considering look, then unclasped the leather bracelet and passed it over. Thor snapped it onto his own wrist, resting the bound hand on my shoulder. I appreciated the move. He couldn’t change the awkward fact that I was on a leash, but at least I wouldn’t be jerked around randomly. The three of us moved forwards again, through the great gates of the palace and into an atrium. Heimdall led my brother and I down a different corridor than the one to the throne room. After a few turns, I recognized where we were. _Oh great,_ I sighed mentally, _We’re headed for the dungeons_. I was not disappointed. We rounded a corner and entered a long hallway filled with cells, their transparent sides gleaming faintly gold. Heimdall walked to a cell at the very end and unlocked it. “In here.” I stepped closer, looking at Thor enquiringly. The chain couldn’t pass through the walls. Heimdall unlocked the chain from the collar, leaving the hard band around my throat, then pushed me inside. 

I sat in the middle of the small room, shaking my head in irritation. Just before the door closed, Thor intervened on my behalf yet again. “Let me take off the collar and gag at least, Heimdall. He can’t do anything in this cell. He’s isolated at the end. You may as well allow him some measure of comfort.” 

Heimdall shook his head. “Like this, I feel Loki is adequately contained. He does not need to be comfortable.” 

“He is my brother. Allow me to show my love for him somehow. He must be terrified.” I rolled my eyes, although Thor was undoubtedly right. They bickered back and forth for a few minutes, then Thor must have won, for he climbed into the cell and pressed the places at the base of my jaw that would retract the gag. As it came out of my mouth, I coughed and spat on the floor. “Thank you, brother. That thing… ugh. Disgusting.” 

He shook his head, laughing. “Oh, Loki. Behave well, won’t you. I don’t want to give Heimdall a reason to do more.” I bowed my head, smiling faintly. The cell door slid shut behind him and the two warriors walked away. I took a deep breath, glad to be rid of the obstruction, then curled up on my side. With my arms behind me and a heavy collar on my neck, there wasn’t a comfortable way to lie on a hard floor, but I did the best I could.

Thor and Heimdall didn’t return quickly. I lay there silently worrying what they might be discussing. I knew it was very late. The lights in the dungeons had darkened, the only real illumination a flash of gold as some other resident paced close to the walls. The cell was cold, and I soon began to shiver. The floor leeched my body heat away so quickly. I was tired, but dared not sleep. Aside from the definite possibility of another nightmare, I didn’t want to be napping when someone came to pull me out of here and execute me. I sat up, shivering violently now. The muscles in my arms had begun to cramp from the awkward position they were forced into. I didn’t slide them in front of me; who knew what the great gold guardian would think of that. I had no desire to be ‘contained’ any more that I already was. The night wore on as I stared into the darkness. _Why did they need me to come? I’ve only been in this miserable hole, doing and saying nothing. What is Thor doing now? Are they deciding my fate? Will I ever see the sun again?_ The last flashed through my head as a spasm of cold racked me. Soon, I had fallen into a semiconscious haze of cold and pain. 

I leaned against the wall, totally spent. When voices, footsteps, and light came back down the passage towards me, I didn’t turn my head. The door hissed open and Thor’s voice floated through. “Loki? Are you all right? Oh gods...” A warm hand lifted my head, and I twisted my neck painfully to see Thor on his knees next to me. I was shaking from the cold and I curled into him, relishing the heat of his body. He smoothed my hair out of my face. “Are you all right? Speak to me, brother.” 

“Thor,” I croaked. “What are they going to do to me?” I struggled upright, staring into his eyes. “What are they going to do?” I repeated urgently. 

He smiled sadly. “Nothing, Loki. You’re coming home with me.” 

I nodded and gathered my feet under me, forcing my legs into a standing position. The weight of the cuffs on my wrists pulled me off balance into the wall. I recovered and followed my brother out of the cell. Heimdall closed his hand over my shoulder and I dropped it away from him. He lashed out faster than I could duck, striking me on the nose. As I blinked the reflex tears out of my eyes, he clipped the chain onto the collar again. I stepped back, but he just reeled me in and slapped the gag into my mouth. Then we were off, across the corridors, down to the great hall of the Bifrost, through the rainbow, and then into the garden. I crumpled to my knees in the short grass, my head bent awkwardly forwards. Heimdall grabbed the back of my coat and hauled me to my feet again, then released the gag and collar. He spun me around as I coughed and spat the taste of metal and blood out of my mouth, unshackling my hands, then nodded to Thor, stepped into the roadway, and disappeared in a flash of rainbow light. I fell sideways into the gravel, too exhausted to keep standing. 

My brother scooped me up and carried me inside and up the stairs to my room. Jane followed us, clad in bathrobe and slippers, calling, “Thor! What happened? Is- is he all right?” He didn’t answer right away, setting me gently onto the bed. She pushed open the door. “Thor, what has happened? You come back in at two-thirty in the morning looking like you’ve been through a mangler, Loki looks like he’s been tortured at the very least, and you can’t bother to explain? _Tell me what’s going on!_ ” 

Thor turned calmly to face her. “Jane, I need a set of pajamas for Loki and a hot-water bottle or heating pad. After that, I’ll tell you all I can. Will you get those two things though?” I was shaking again, though less violently, by the time Jane returned with the clothing and flimsy blue pillow. Thor took them from her silently and helped me change, then plugged the heating pad into the wall and tucked it under the covers with me. 

“Don’t…don’t go. Please?” I whispered, clutching his hand. 

He squeezed back. “Are you hurt, Loki? What else do you need?” 

“A good few hours of sleep,” I murmured. As the blissful warmth coursed through me, I relaxed into unconsciousness. 

I awoke only once, a quiet drift into awareness, but Thor’s hand tightened in my own as I stirred. Reassured, I fell back into the pillows and into sleep. By the time I’d finally awakened all the way, the sun peeked warily through the window. Thor’s hand hung limp over the arm of his chair; his head tilted back against the wall, his mouth lolling open. Refreshed, I swung my legs out of the bed and onto the floor, working my toes into the soft carpet. I stretched, rolling my shoulders, then slipped out the still-open door and down to the kitchen. I stared in delight at the table, an enormous grin spreading foolishly over my face. An enormous pile of pancakes lay in the center of the white cloth, still steaming faintly. I seized a plate and fork, and before Jane could say more than “He-” three pancakes, newly decorated with butter and syrup, were in front of me. “-llo,” she finished, shaking her head. “Loki, the pancakes will not disappear from your plate. Slow down!” 

I looked up, my mouth crammed full of the glorious fluffiness. I chewed energetically for a few seconds, then swallowed hugely. “Thank you, Jane. Also, good morning.” I cut off another bite and ate it in exaggerated slow motion. She rolled her eyes and sat down across from me as I continued to plow my way through the pancakes. When I looked up to refill my plate, she spoke. “I assume you’re feeling better?” I nodded, drizzling syrup over the second plateful. “What happened? Thor told me that he left you down in a cell for a couple hours and you were half-dead when he found you.” 

I laughed grimly. “Absolutely nothing happened. Unless you count hypothermia as something.” 

Jane nodded thoughtfully as I attacked the pancakes. “If that was all…why did you need to go?” I shrugged, mouth full again. “It does explain why Thor wanted a heating pad, though. I wondered,” she murmured under her breath. I swallowed the last bites and took my plate to the sink silently. I didn’t want to go over Asgard in detail with anyone other than Thor. I needed to know what he’d talked with Heimdall and any other mysterious people about, and quickly.

I turned sharply back to face her, leaving the water running. “Did Thor ever tell you what he did?” 

She tilted her head. “Yes. But he also said that he’d prefer to discuss it with you alone. Despite the fact that, as he put it, ‘Loki may die from sheer curiosity’.” She chuckled, but I was growing impatient. Didn’t they know that this information was quite literally about a matter of life or death? My life or death? And they didn’t see fit to tell me immediately! I felt like running back upstairs and shaking Thor until he gave me answers. 

I finished washing my plate instead and walked back upstairs to shower. If I was doomed to wait, I might as well do it in comfort. I scrubbed every trace of the dungeons out of my body, until my skin was red from the heat and raw from the movement of the washcloth. I turned off the water and dried and dressed quickly. Perhaps, although it was unlikely, Thor had awakened. I brushed my teeth, cleaning away any remnant of the awful flavors of the night before, then pulled a brush through my hair. I winced as it caught on a particularly nasty tangle, elbowing open the bathroom door and meandering back down the stairs. I paused in the sitting room to work the knot out, then swept the top half of my hair back and out of the way. I tied off the ponytail and dropped it, spinning the brush as I walked into the kitchen. Thor was seated at the table, and he turned to face me as I entered. “Brother,” he said, face grave, “We need to talk. Last night- well, you’re more adept at political machinations than I am. Maybe you’ll make some sense of it. But what I heard worried me.” 

I dropped the hairbrush on my foot. If Thor, the ever-optimistic, was worried, this could be very serious indeed. “Am I…. Are they planning to...” My throat was so dry I couldn’t force the words out. I swallowed heavily, the memory of the collar tight around my throat, then tried again. “Will I be executed?” The words hung in the air between us. I stared into Thor’s eyes, willing him to tell me everything would be just the same. 

He glanced away. “Put on a warm coat, brother, and your shoes. We need to go for a walk.” I didn’t question him. I hurried upstairs and into a coat, hat, and shoes. I didn’t even stop to consider the fact that I might end up leaving the property. I was too focused on the fact that my brother could not hold my gaze when I asked him if I would die. 

The two of us stepped out the door into the cold morning. I stiffened as Thor held open the gate for me. He read the hesitation on my face. “I scored one point last night. Come on!” The tracker vibrated gently as I walked out into the wider realm of Midgard. Had it done that last night? I hadn’t noticed. Thor led me along a winding sidewalk and among a copse of trees to a small footbridge over a rushing stream. He stopped, elbows resting on the railings, and glanced over at me. “Last night,” he began, then stopped. I joined him, gazing into the icy tumult below. “Last night, Heimdall told me there’s a great evil stirring somewhere beyond the Nine Realms. It has an unnatural interest in us- but mostly you. He thinks that perhaps this evil seeks your gifts, or intends to harness your ambition. We just don’t know. But-” 

I interrupted. “There’s a big nasty thing that wants us, but mostly me, for undisclosed reasons. And since I came to Asgard, I have a guess that one of Heimdall’s solutions to that threat was to kill me.” 

Thor was quiet for a long moment. “Yes.” I laughed hopelessly, then we lapsed back into silence. 

We stood together as the sun broke through the treetops. The warmth penetrated the wet hair on the back of my neck and I sighed. Around us, birds began to stir, calling out to each other, their voices a cheerful chorus. The river, too, was changed by the light. It seemed to dance over the smooth red rocks. Even the railings we leaned on were different. No longer scraggly or abandoned, they stood proud and old, the splinters I took care to avoid battle scars rather than the products of neglect. Thor’s hair was a radiant halo, gleaming gold and majestic just like the rest of him. He noticed me staring and shook his head. “What is it, brother?” 

I glanced down at the boards under my feet. _Focus, Loki. And not on his hair!_ “What do you know about this evil? What does it do, where is it, what else has it seemed to want?” 

Thor inhaled sharply. “To tell you the truth, brother-” 

“Oh, do. I’ll die enlightened.” He smacked my shoulder playfully at the barb. 

“I didn’t pay too much attention. I got that you needed to be watched carefully to ensure you didn’t communicate with this evil. I also convinced them that you needed to get out of the house occasionally. I persuaded Heimdall not to chop off your head without listening to you first. After that, I didn’t understand much. Jane, she’d understand the physics of it all, and maybe you’d find a strategy to make the best of this. But I just don’t know.” 

I clenched my fist on my thigh. “I have to go back. You know that. Can you summon Heimdall?” 

“Loki, you nearly died last time.” 

“No, I didn’t. And this time, Thor, I have a plan. Trust me.” 

Our somber gazes met. The bright morning seemed to dim. Then Thor bowed his head in acquiescence. “How soon?” 

“When we get back,” I said grimly. “And this time, you’re not leaving me.”


	5. The War Chamber

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again! I hope you're all doing well and happy reading!

_Ondarev has prepared her friend’s body for the burial beautifully. Damaret’s long hair has been combed and braided into elegant wings like those of the falcon, our clan protector. Her hands are folded neatly over her chest. If it wasn’t for the masklike pallor of her features and her complete stillness, I would have guessed she was playing Sleeping Maiden with Ev, trying to feign sleep as long as possible. But Aret never was good at that game because she couldn’t stop moving. She was a warrior, born and bred._

_I don’t hear the chants to the Ancestors or see the displays of flowers. All I can focus on is the curled-over shell of the person that was my sister. I press closer to her and she grabs me, holding me to her like I’m the last thing she has. Maybe, in that moment, I am. We let the tears fall silently until long after the funeral palanquin has left. Suddenly, Ev lets go of me and strides away. I call after her, but she doesn’t turn._

_She doesn’t come home for three days._

********************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************

We walked home, our coats slung over our arms. I gathered my thoughts in silence. I needed to find out the exact nature of whatever was after me. Somewhere, the Titan was gathering his forces. I had failed him, and I knew he’d come back for revenge. If this was he, then killing me would be counterproductive. But there were obviously other things out there that could want my skills. I was, after all, an expert trickster, a master of illusion, and a good fighter and tactician. I couldn’t make any plans before I had information, though. And to get that, I’d need to persuade Heimdall to trust me just enough. It would be a brutal task. I would need Thor’s help and guileless nature. I’d need Jane, too, as she could interpret any data far more clearly than I could. Even then, I’d need my own wits and charm, more than I ever had before. “Thor,” I said suddenly, “when Heimdall comes, you need to make sure he knows why you’ve summoned him. I also need to be able to talk.” 

My brother regarded me hopelessly. “I’ll do my best on the former. The latter, well, Loki, Heimdall won’t want a liar like yourself to pull anything. And he won’t trust your promises.” 

“I know.” _Liar. Criminal. All you’ll ever be._ I quashed the voice in my head fiercely. “That’s why I need you. I have an idea as to what’s after me. I could be wrong, and I’m hoping and praying that I am. But I have to talk to him to really figure it all out.”

I opened the gate and we came down the gravel path together. As Thor muttered, “You’re explaining this to Jane,” I slipped upstairs and into my room. I glanced through the closet and pulled an oversized coat over the thick hooded shirt I was already wearing. If everything went to plan, I wouldn’t need anything else- I had plenty of clothes in my rooms at the palace. I picked up my boots and ran back downstairs into the kitchen, where Jane was stirring a pot emitting a savory fragrance. “Do you have a pair of really strong scissors?” I asked. She glanced up. 

“Yes. Thor also told me you’d explain why he has to call Heimdall back here.” 

I nodded. “And I will. Could you find the scissors?” 

She beckoned me over to the downstairs office and pulled a pair of heavy shears out of a drawer in the desk. “These do?” 

“I think so. Now, Heimdall.” I pulled one boot on and plotted out the line I’d need to cut to avoid the tracker. If I needed to fight, I’d do it in my own shoes. The scissors sliced the toughened leather amazingly well. “Thor told you about the whatever-it-is trying to find me? Well, I might have a guess as to what it is. But I need to talk to Heimdall to figure it out. I’d need maps, information, everything. I’m just hoping that both I’m wrong about what’s after me and that Thor has enough influence to keep my head attached to my shoulders.” 

I slid the cut-down boot onto my foot again. The familiar, worn sides fit well, and I believed it would actually stay in place. I got to my feet, spinning and sliding to test the grip. The thing actually stayed on as solidly as I had hoped. I quickly trimmed the second shoe to the same measurements, then tested it out as well. The old soles were comforting, molded to my feet as only well-worn boots can be. I slipped off the hacked-up shoes and padded out of the room into the kitchen. Thor was standing in the back garden, arms raised, a pack slung over his back. For what felt like hours, nothing happened. Then the blinding light of the Bifrost slanted down across the sky once again and Sif stood in the middle of the gravel path, arms crossed. “Thor, what is it?” she asked brusquely. 

“I need to get Loki to Asgard. Now,” my brother replied. “He tells me he may know something about whatever this monster is, but he needs more information. Honestly, I believe him. He hasn’t been in contact with anyone other than Jane and me. And we need anything he has, Sif. Anything.” 

She curled her lip in distaste. “Oh, I’ll enjoy watching him squirm as I force him to kneel in chains. Go fetch him, Thor. Let’s get this over with.”

He waved at me. I snapped the old boots onto my feet and stepped out the door. Thor stared at me in shock. “Loki, what did you do to those innocent shoes? They look like….” 

“Like a couple of knives used them as a battlefield,” Sif supplied. 

“They fit. And I can get them on and off in a reasonable amount of time.” I shrugged. “Does it really matter how they look?” 

Sif shook her head. “You never fail to disgust me.” 

“I’ll take that as a compliment. Now, are we ready to go?” 

She grinned evilly. “Not quite yet. Hands behind your back, _criminal_.” 

I winced slightly at the taunt. “Is all this really necessary? I am unarmed and you have a whopping great sword at your side,” I complained, but allowed her to shackle me. She ratcheted the cuffs in so tight they hurt, but I didn’t allow it to show on my face. She pulled my head down, brushing my hair roughly into my face as she locked the collar around my neck. When she reached into her pocket, a malevolent glee in her eyes, I decided now was a good time to stop. “Thor. Remember!” 

He blocked her lunge towards me. “Please, my friend. I know you hate him, but what use is he if he can’t talk?” She shook him off. 

I tried to dodge her next lunge, but tripped and fell flat on my back. She bared her teeth in triumph and landed on my chest. “Open up, trickster boy,” she crooned. When I clenched my jaws shut, she seemed to glow. Pulling out a knife, she worked the tip between my molars and levered upwards, forcing them open one creaking millimeter at a time. When they’d opened enough, she pressed the cold metal into my mouth, slipping her blade out quickly. The gag caught me before I could attempt to shake it off. Sif rolled off me. “Now I’m ready to go.” 

Thor pulled me to my feet and dusted me off. “I’m sorry, brother,” he murmured, but I whipped my head around. By his hiss of annoyance, my hair had hit him in the eye. Good. Sif seized my upper arm in a tight grip, digging her nails into me. I was suddenly thankful for the thick second coat I’d slipped on upstairs, despite the heat. The Bifrost descended again and shot us back up to the golden hall where Heimdall stood with one hand on the pommel of his sword, blocking the exit. He gave us a searching look, then nodded and stepped aside to let us pass.

We had horses to ride this time. Sif tried very hard to keep me on a literal leash while mounting a horse. It failed epically, and would have been hilarious if it hadn’t nearly choked me. Eventually, she had to pass me over to Thor, who set me on the horse, told me to bend down, then set his palm on the cantle and vaulted into the saddle. He wrapped one arm around me and urged the animal forwards. I bounced up and down on its neck as the three of us galloped towards the golden gates. Thor pressed me into his chest to halt the vertical motion, but was largely unsuccessful. The horses skidded to a stop at the entrance to the palace. My brother slid off the saddle quickly, carrying me gently down with him. I was furious with him for it, though I knew he was trying to help. I was simply frustrated with my own helplessness. This trip was going nowhere near the plans I’d laid. We marched in the same back entrance we’d used last time, down to the frigid cell at the very back of the dungeon. This time, Thor didn’t stop to ask. He slipped inside with me and removed the gag. Sif stared dumbly at the two of us, the blond hero and the bound, dark-haired criminal together inside a cell. I tossed back my head and laughed. “And this is how you think to get me to tell you what I know. Chain me, humiliate me, and lock me in a cell? Oh, my lady, that won’t do at all.” She glared at me. “No, you need me, however much it galls. You’ll just have to accommodate me.” 

As I drew breath to continue, Thor laid his hand on my shoulder. “Loki, enough. I get the point. The big, tough warriors are dependent on the prisoner. So they should make him happy. Am I right?” I whirled to face him, the cuffs pulling me slightly off balance. 

“Don’t you see? This is all I ever can hope for!” I shrieked, eyes wild. “To be an object of pity. To live silently, in your shadow, as a little prince. Well, when that didn’t work out, when I never could be good enough, I tried death. I didn’t succeed. Once again, I was no more than a pawn. I had one task, and I failed. And if that failure ever catches me, I’ll be praying to die once again!” I had fallen to my knees, gasping for breath, but I couldn’t stop. “And you, you, you pampered fools, you think there’s good in one person and evil in another, and let me tell you, there’s only pain! And when life has found a different course, when I try being happy again, you mock me?” My voice dropped to a whisper as tears streamed down my face. “You wanted me on my knees, chained, Lady Sif? Well, here I am, because this is all I can ever be. Taste your victory. I hope it’s sweet. I wouldn’t know.” I leaned against the wall, drained and defeated. 

Sif and Thor both stared at me. “Thor?” she murmured after a few seconds. “Is he...” 

“Sane?” my brother replied. “I don’t know. Frustrated more than anything, I’d guess.” I resented the fact that they were speaking of me as though I weren’t there, but couldn’t be bothered to voice the protest. Thor grabbed under my arm and heaved, pulling me to my feet. “And it's naptime, brother. Clearly you aren’t functioning normally.” He slung me over his shoulder and the two warriors jogged down the hall. 

I remember that we reached my rooms without any fuss, but after that, I must have passed out. When I awoke, I was in my own bed in Asgard. I noticed the covers were pulled up to my chin and tried to lift an arm to push them off. I was tied down. It was Sif’s doing, no doubt. I sighed and tested the bonds. Not too tight, but I was firmly anchored, wrist and ankle, to the bed. I lifted my head and glared towards the end of the room. Thor sat in a chair, watching me, Sif and Fandral by his side. “Hello, Thor,” I said smoothly. “Care to explain why I’m tied to my own bed? Seems a bit… much. Oh, don’t tell me. It was one of the stooges?” 

I smiled dazzlingly at Sif and Fandral. “The Loki we all know,” Sif began, “and hate,” Fandral supplied, “is back.” 

I rolled my eyes. “The chorus bit was a little overkill. But I do appreciate the sentiment.” Thor, meanwhile, had come over and began freeing me. As he finished, I sat up and stretched. “Oh, much better. Now, out, all of you. I’m changing.” 

I watched them calmly. Per my expectation, they didn’t stir. I got up and walked over to my closet, pulling out a clean tunic, shirt, and trousers. “Ooh,” Sif breathed. I smiled to myself and walked into the bathroom, closing and locking the door behind me. It didn’t take long to slip out of the Midgardian clothes and into the familiar Asgardian ones, and I opened the door again, shrugging the tunic into the proper place on my shoulders. I balled the heavy mess of my previous outfit and tossed it under my bed, then tugged the hem over my thigh down smartly and walked back to the closet, where I pulled out my green and black tabard. I hummed, more to taunt Sif and Fandral than from any sense of pleasure, as I stuck my arms in and adjusted the collar. Only one thing was missing, I realized as I glanced into the mirror. 

I opened the drawer by my bed and smiled. My knives were still there. I lifted Oathbreaker and slid it into my left sleeve, binding my forearm with a simple piece of black leather to hold the blade stable. Moondark I slipped into the right, repeating the motion. I stared at the one knife left in the drawer. Alinea, it was called, a gift from my mother. _If you no longer need me, leave this blade behind. Until then, keep it with you. It has served me well and will do the same for you, Loki my son._ I gazed blankly at the knife for a moment, lost in memory. I would sooner lose a hand than that weapon. I picked it up, absentmindedly tumbling it over my knuckles. Something rustled behind me and I spun, Alinea falling neatly into my palm as I dropped into a ready stance. The tip flicked up to Sif’s throat as she stood frozen, eyes wide. I relaxed, letting the blade down and standing straight. “I wouldn’t sneak up on me if I were you,” I noted, sheathing Alinea at my waist. I realized how incomplete I’d felt without the familiar weights on my body. I shoved the cut-down boots onto my feet and grinned at my brother. “Let’s go wherever it is we’re supposed to be going.”

Fandral blocked my path. “Put the knives down, Loki. I’d hate to hurt you.” 

I rolled my eyes. “From one liar to another, that was pretty well done. I nearly thought about believing you. But we both know you won’t do anything with my brother around.” 

Thor wandered over as if on cue. “Tell Loki to ditch the weapons,” Fandral demanded. 

“Loki, why do you have-” Thor looked me up and down- “three knives on your person?” 

“I decided that I disliked being knocked around continually. I grabbed my insurance.” I spread my hands. “Yes, Sif startled me, but harming any of you would be completely counterproductive. Are we going or not?” 

Thor sighed in irritation, pulling something from his backpack. “Fine, but you’re not unarmed anymore. I have no qualms.” I nodded once, sharply, and held out my wrists. The chain on the cuffs was far longer than I expected, and I looked at him steadily. He raised an eyebrow at my expression. I shook my head and looked away. It was a mild tactical error. When I wasn’t paying attention, he thumped me on the head, but I promptly stepped on his foot. Ah, the friendly relations of brothers. 

Just as we’d begun what promised to be an excellent elbowing contest, Sif stopped us. “Hey, criminal, leave Thor alone!” she snapped. I, quite logically, ignored her and went for a particularly nice upwards thrust into Thor’s shortribs. Before it had a chance to connect, Sif grabbed the back of my shirt and dragged me bodily away from him. “I told you to stop,” she snarled. 

“No, you never said, ‘Loki, stop’,” I countered. “And Thor was having fun, weren’t you, Thor?” He waved at me, hand covering his bruised side protectively. “See, Sif, all fun here.” I twisted away and gave her my best disarming smile. She backhanded me across the mouth. 

I spat blood onto the tiles. “Was that honestly necessary? I did nothing!” 

“Don’t ever look at me that way again,” she growled. “Now shut up and move.” 

I turned to see that Fandral was holding the door impatiently. “Look at you how, like you’ve just hit me? I’ll happily stop if you’ll stop attacking me.” I proceeded in Thor’s wake at a dignified pace that may have been just a trifle faster than normal. Heimdall joined us in the corridor and I nodded to him. We soon caught up to Thor, who didn’t seem to me to be in any hurry to go anywhere. As I drew even with him, he motioned for the others to go ahead, pulling me back. “Loki, give me some more information about whatever evil it is you think is after you. Why it’s after you would be a good start. You mentioned a failure earlier?” 

I nodded pensively for a few seconds, checked that the others were out of earshot, then replied. “I came for the Tesseract a few months ago. Well, there’s a story there. When I dropped off the Bifrost, I didn’t just fall into empty space. I’d be dead.” 

“I wondered why you weren’t,” he interjected, but I pressed one hand on his to quiet him. 

“I fell into a wormhole, actually, and came out on this… rock in the middle of nowhere. There was this giant monster, of a sort, that was there, and after a few days as his… guest, he made me an offer. Either die by slow torture, or take a little job for him. All I had to do was pop over to Earth- he’d send me- and steal this superpowerful magic cube called the Tesseract. I even got an army of aliens as backup. Once I did that, all I needed to do was get the cube back to him. Then, Earth was mine to rule as I wanted. I thought, _Hey, easy job, nice payoff, and the alternative is horrible. Why not?_ So I said yes. But the monster may still be after me, trying to get revenge.” 

Thor nodded a few times, digesting this, then spoke. “So do you know where you were?” 

I rolled my eyes dramatically. “Why else would I have wanted maps, brother? Why Asgardian ones specifically, if not?” We rounded a corner and reached the entrance to the War Chamber.

The War Chamber didn’t have much to do with war. It was actually the largest, most advanced map repository in Asgard, or any of the Nine Realms, as far as I was aware. The walls were stunning in their sheer size, cubbies marking every square inch. The honeycombed structures held every sort of map imaginable, from ancient paper things to Midgardian computer files, to my personal favorites, the holographic spheres of space that could zoom in and out or rotate at a touch. I beckoned everyone over to one of these, set my hand on the scanner, and spoke my name. “Loki Odinson.” The shimmering blue globe sprang into life above the pad, and I lifted my hand away. 

“I thought you were adopted,” Fandral commented. “So isn’t your name different?” 

“I am. And it is. But this is how I’m registered in the system.” I shrugged, then raised one finger and turned the projection gently, gazing into its depths. The manacles clanked and I raised my eyes in frustration. “That sound will get very annoying very quickly, brother,” I commented. 

“I thought you were supposed to be the subtle one here. Deal with it,” he shot back. I returned to the globe, grimacing at the noises when I moved my wrists. I’d soon found the appropriate patch of stars, and was zooming in, turning this way and that to find the proper angles. “Thor, what is he looking for?” Sif queried, but I answered for him. 

“One particular little bit of Hel where I spent far too much time. Specifically, I’m trying to match up star systems with what I remember and triangulate coordinates.” 

“That’s quite vague, actually,” Heimdall murmured, watching me intently. I found a spot where the angles looked roughly right and calculated the approximate area where a planet could be. 

“Hey, check these coordinates for an asteroid or small planet. I need maps of where you’ve tracked the force and notes on what it’s been doing. Now!” I clapped my hands together briskly. Sif and Fandral jumped, but didn’t move until Thor nodded. 

Heimdall, meanwhile, reached over and picked up a set of tablets by his left ear. “The notes with coordinates on activities,” he said, placing them into my hands. I tilted my head towards a nearby table and the three of us sat down. I spread out the tablets and tapped them, prompting them to emit their glowing figures. I scanned the notes quickly, then zoomed in and began to examine them more minutely. 

Sif dropped an armful of materials by my elbow and I startled. “Thank you. Could you,” I snapped my fingers as I searched for words, “go over them with Heimdall or something? He’ll know more than I will.” She scooped up the assorted bits and relocated them, dragging a chair over to Heimdall. I returned to poring over the details of the tablets. 

The whatever-it-was had been leaving energy signatures all over the place. I let an illusion step out of me and walk over to the globe, marking the places where the thing had been. The double-vision was giving me a nasty headache, as I needed to see both the illusion’s actions and my own, as well as maintain the solidity of the illusion so that it could manipulate the sphere. I finished plotting the last coordinates and whistled softly. “Brother, I think you should take a look at this.” Thor turned, then grabbed my hair, jerking my head back. “Ow!” I complained. “Let go!” 

“Drop the illusion,” he growled softly. 

I complied, and as he relinquished his grip, I spun to face him. “What was that for?” 

“I’m not stupid, Loki. If you’re pulling tricks like that, you could start trying to get information to something out there. Perhaps the very thing we’re supposed to track.” 

I rubbed my scalp with one hand, chains bumping my cheek. “Somehow, brother dear, that is a bit unlikely. After all, look at me.” I spread my arms as far as I could. “I’m shackled. I have a tracker on my ankle. Heimdall is sitting right next to me. I would have to be a fool to want to pull anything right now. Do you take me for a fool?” 

He shook his head grudgingly. “That’s the one thing you aren’t. What did you want to show me?” 

I rose and paced over to the globe. Dots marked the entire projection, ranging from a faint pink to a deep red. “These are spots where activity has been detected. The darker the color, the more recent.” 

Thor stared at the map for a few seconds, then blanched. “They start way out there, all over, then narrow in.” 

I nodded grimly. “To two places- Earth and Asgard. What’s more, they’ve gotten specific.” I expanded our view of Earth with a flick of my fingers. 

Thor’s eyes widened. “Germany, a few months ago. New York, similar time period. And in the last two days-” 

“Yes. They’re circling closer.” 

Heimdall came up behind us, his shadow making the orb glow even more brightly. “You see why I was worried. This indicates they have a method of tracking Loki’s position, and have had it for a while. The specificity makes-” 

“It looks like I’ve been transmitting information on my whereabouts. I get it,” I finished quietly. “But before you lop off my head, I’d prefer you consider this. They were clearly tracking me by my use of magic earlier. Now, I have a lovely beacon on my leg, which would make any tracking easier, but they haven’t tapped into it yet. If you look, there’s the ruined base where I came out, and they’ve got a bunch of activity there. There’s the party in Germany, and I used some then, and, of course, there’s New York. But if you look, you won’t find any other areas they’ve investigated. They stuck to where I used detectable amounts of magic.” 

Thor sighed in relief. “Then they won’t find the house, since Loki hasn’t used any magic and he’s not there right now.” 

I looked at the floor. Thor wasn’t exactly right. I had performed a simple illusion two days ago, in my bedroom. “I think Jane should come here anyway,” I murmured. “She has the expertise to decipher what the signatures mean, not just where they are.” 

“She can do that in safety, from the house. She has all the equipment.” 

I raised my eyes and turned back to the table, changing the subject. “There’s one piece of good news and one bad. Which one do you want first?” 

“Good,” Thor replied just as Heimdall said, “Bad.” 

“Easy, then. I don’t know what’s after me. Both good and bad. That isn’t the monster I told you about. The monitoring started far too early and was too sporadic. I was in contact with my army commander my entire visit to Earth. We would have much more data if that was the source.” 

“And since you’re here, and just used magic-” 

“They should find me easily on Asgard. We need a plan. Judging by dates, there’s roughly a three-day delay between when I do something and they turn up.” Heimdall clicked his tongue thoughtfully. I ran one hand over a paper map of Asgard Fandral had just spread out, knocking the chain between my cuffs into him accidentally. 

“Keep your metal to yourself, criminal,” he spat. 

I sighed and stared intently at the map. “Thank you for bringing this out,” I said calmly, ignoring his comment. Thor set one hand lightly on my shoulder and leaned over me. 

“If we’re in the War Chamber, who knows if they’ll come here or go somewhere else. How accurate are their instruments?” 

“Thor, I have no idea. They don’t seem to be in any hurry to get to me, since they’re not moving right when I use a glamour. Or that could be their technological failure. How should I know?” 

He pushed a pin into the map where we were. “So what are we going to do?” 

Heimdall’s golden eyes bored into mine from across the table, his voice low as he continued. “Locking Loki in a cell is probably the easiest way to deal with this. We can post guards and then we’ll be prepared for whatever comes.” A flash of anger flitted across my face before I could stop it. 

“Apparently I still cannot be trusted. I’m probably the best tactician you have, not to mention the target of this thing. I have been nothing but helpful, and in return I get shut up in the dungeon.”

I stalked over to the globe, staring at it again. A thought blazed into my brain, an insane idea I found terrifying at the very least. Still, it might just work. “What if I’m bait? We set me out somewhere easy to reach, and I do large amounts of magic over the course of a day or so. The things come after me, and-” 

“And we kill it!” Thor’s face was alight. 

“Not quite. You can trace me anywhere, can’t you? So the enemy gets me and takes me off, and you track me. You can find my location and, if I can find a transmitter, I can give you other pieces of data too. You come after me with a larger force, and then you can kill whatever it is. That way you know where it’s coming from.” 

Heimdall shook his head immediately. “This depends far too much on happenstance and trust.” 

“I prefer the idea of possible danger to being locked in a cell for an unspecified amount of time. One is at least interesting.”

Thor pressed gently on my shoulder. “Heimdall is right, brother. It’s better to keep you safe.” I bit my lip, realizing that further argument would be pointless. I could press my point, but it would seem childish, which would be counterproductive. 

“Bring Jane to Asgard. She shouldn’t be on Midgard right now,” I said calmly, my face as still as I could keep it. 

“No, she’s safe on Midgard. An alien attack is mounting on Asgard,” Thor replied. 

“She’s not safe on Midgard. Not in that house. Not if we’re fearing an attack here.” 

Heimdall stared at me. “No, she’s not. Because Thor was wrong about you, magic, and Midgard.” I shrugged and glared at the floor. 

“I didn’t know that anything was wrong until this morning. I didn’t realize anything was tracing my magic until half an hour ago. So yes, I used one illusion. One.”

Thor gave me an upset look. “When, Loki? I trusted you. I let you wander around the house freely. This is how you repay me?” 

I lifted my gaze and returned his betrayed look with a bitter one of my own. “It was after that nightmare. I never left the bathroom. I waited until you left and then came out and cried. That’s the big scam I pulled. Happy now?” I hated admitting to the moment of weakness, but if the excuse didn’t make sense he wouldn’t accept it.

My brother held my eyes until I couldn’t bear it and had to look away. “No, Loki, I’m not. Is there anything more you need to do here?” 

I glanced around and shook my head. “Not until Jane can take a look at those tablets.” 

He caught my shoulder. “Let’s go. Heimdall, can you get Hogan or Volstagg down to the dungeons?” The giant bowed his golden head as Thor pulled me out of the room. “I will be setting a cell up for your residence. What would you need? Don’t ask for anything fancy, because you’re not getting it.” 

I threw my head back and laughed desperately. “This is absurd. The jailer asking his prisoner about his preferences? Well then, sir, I’d like-” 

“Be reasonable.” 

I bent my head in acquiescence. “I need somewhere to sleep that’s off the ground, a few blankets, and something to do. After that, I’m not a needy person.” I grinned at him, but it felt forced. 

“Cot, blankets, book or three. Got it.” Thor pushed open an innocuous door and we descended into the cold once again.


	6. Beneath the Palace

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I seem to have found a posting schedule. Wonders never do cease. Just so you know, there is some blood in this chapter. Nothing horribly gory, but you have been warned. 
> 
> Have fun reading!

_Ever since she came back after the funeral, my sister has locked herself in her room. It’s been three days and she’s eaten basically nothing. I’m worried for her. Damaret’s loss took everyone by surprise. Young, vigorous girls don’t die of simple fevers. But she did. My sister’s just heartbroken, I think, but I’ve heard stories of people who get sick from that and die too. I can’t lose her! I knock on the door. “Ev? Can I come in?”_

_There’s no response and I crack open the door. She’s on her window seat again, staring out into the night, even though Aret will never flash her so much as a simple hello now. “Kayra, get out. Leave me alone.” I recoil. I know what Kay-Kay is short for, of course, but I could always pretend. Now I feel sick. Cursed. She called me cursed. I back out of her room and run to my mother, crying like the end of the world has come._

********************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************

I was provided with a front cell this time, presumably so it would be easy to keep an eye on me. I shook my head. _They put a tracker on me, yet prefer their eyes to the equipment. Honestly_ , I thought in disgust. Thor had turned to talk to Hogan, leaving me standing in the middle of a corridor, ignored. I rested my back on the wall and stared at them. Whatever they were discussing involved completely insane guard rotations and taste testers. The conversation made no sense. Who was about to be poisoned? Surely they wouldn’t worry about me so much. Thor finally gave Hogan a slap on the back and turned back to me. He pressed his palm to the seal on the door and it slid open quietly. “In you go. Hogan will be back in a few minutes with your stuff.” 

“Wait. You are not leaving me here alone when he gets back. Do you know what he’ll try to do to me? It’ll make Sif’s attack look like kisses and hugs. He hates me!” I glared at Thor, defiant. 

He rolled his eyes. “And you’d deserve every bit of it. But if the great criminal is scared, I’ll wait.” He pushed me inside and allowed the golden force field to separate us. 

“Sarcasm doesn’t work well for you,” I yawned, sitting down and stretching out my legs. He ignored me.

My brother was correct. It was barely a few minutes before Hogan returned. Thor, who had been cross-legged on the floor with his back to me, rose and opened the door. He ducked inside and pulled open a simple army cot, dropping it roughly, then shook out three blankets, tossing them at the foot of the bed. I took the four heavy tomes Hogan was holding before Thor could, placing them gently on the floor. The manacles scraped roughly against the stone as I did so, and I held my wrists out to Thor. “You’re locking me in a cell that you know perfectly well I cannot get out of. You could at least let me be comfortable.” 

Hogan smirked unpleasantly. “Or you could leave him like that because it’s funny.” 

I rested one hand on the lintel and leaned towards him, a cruel smile playing on my face. “Oh yes. Just as funny as when I disembowel you with your own mace and leave you hanging over the edge of the Bifrost as food for-” 

“Enough!” Thor snapped, shouldering me fully into the cell. He unlocked the cuffs, then followed Hogan out. The door snapped shut, sealing me into the golden prison, as their backs disappeared up the stairs.

I sat down on the edge of the cot, glancing at the pile of books in the corner. The volumes were thick with dust. I scooped up one of the blankets and rubbed the dirt off the top book. The cover was a faded green, black lettering peeling off the front. I examined them carefully. The script wasn’t particularly ornate, but bits of the runes were missing and I wondered just how old it was. _Laws and Justice of the Nine Realms._ The author’s name was completely gone. Asgardian. Hm. Wondering vaguely if it was supposed to be a joke, I set the book down and lifted the next one onto my lap. This book was much newer, clad in handsome pale leather, a burgundy bookmark poking out the bottom. The gold-embossed title was in a Vanir script so curly and twisted I could barely decipher it. _The Icy Bridge_ , I finally guessed, by one Astrid [last name unreadable]. Judging by that script, it could quite possibly be a romance novel. I was beginning to suspect Hogan had wandered around the shelves at random and grabbed a few things without looking. The next book was clearly Midgardian, the flimsy paper dust jacket cracking at the edges. It bore an odd orange and white illustration of a man and the legend _The Complete Sherlock Holmes_. I opened it in curiosity. It was a collection of mysteries, set in Midgard a century or so before. I set it down beside the first two and turned my attention to the last volume. This one was noticeably smaller than the others, although obviously still Midgardian in origin. It also wasn’t nearly as dusty. The cover was a blue cloth substance, the words Robin Hood clearly visible. Beneath it, in a small, neat print, ran the name Howard Pyle. I allowed it to slide through my fingers and onto the law manual, then stood and surveyed the room. 

What space I had was completely disorganized. The cot was at an odd angle in the center of the cell, the blankets in a heap at the end. One was actually on the floor, although that much was my fault. And I had four books also lying on the stone. I dragged the cot to a back wall, where it would be more sheltered from any ambient noise, then folded two of the blankets at the end of the bed. They were both thick, of a slightly rough material I didn’t recognize, and warm. I decided that they would be enough. The third blanket I brushed the dust off of and folded in half, laying it on the white ledge by the faintly glowing, transparent wall. I set the volumes upright at the foot of the newly created window seat and glanced around again. I now had a bed in one corner, a reading nook at the opposite wall, and a place for my books to live. The room felt oddly large and echoing as I stood in silence, a reminder of my solitude. I peered through the network of golden runes that formed the window. In this corridor at least, there were no other prisoners visible. I shrugged and turned away, pacing around the perimeter of the cell. As I passed the door, my toe caught on something hard. I heard a metallic clank and glanced down. The chain that had recently bound my hands lay glittering on the white stone. I bent and picked it up. 

It was heavy, heavier than I’d realized, heavier than it had seemed when it was on me. I swung it gently, thinking, then tossed it under the cot. I wasn’t about to stare at it all the time. The harsh clang that reverberated through the room made me shiver. I wrapped one of the blankets around me and curled up on the ledge, grabbing the Midgard collection of mysteries and setting it on my lap. I blew a final bit of dust off the front and opened it carefully to the first chapter. The paper was brittle and yellowing, and I caught a few pages as they fluttered towards the floor. I breathed in the smell of old glue and ink, then began to read. Dr. Watson’s reminiscences amused me, and I was quite distracted until the book turned to the subject of lunch. My stomach emitted a growl so ferocious that I scanned the corridor for a small angry animal.

There were none, of course. As the noise occurred again, I glanced down in understanding and poked my abdomen. The sound changed to a disturbing gurgle. Alarmed, I stared at myself for a moment before remembering something. I hadn’t eaten lunch, and breakfast had been early. I’d been distracted for most of the day, with Sif and my sudden nap, then the discoveries in the War Chamber. The thought that right now, unknown beings were tracking me because of my magic was frightening to say the least. I tilted my chin up and went back to the book, trying my best to ignore the rumblings and the fear. This Sherlock Holmes was a fascinating character. _Yes, Loki, focus on the strange Midgardian, not on- focus on the strange Midgardian!_

I had no way of telling time, no method of knowing how long I’d been in here, no idea of when dinner would come. I ran a hand through the curls falling into my face and realized they were tangled. And I had no hairbrush. Suddenly my hunger faded into the background. I’d forgotten to ask Thor for a comb or conditioner or…. My mind ran into horrible places detailing frizzy, knotted messes of black hair perching atop my head. I buried my face in my hands but the images kept coming. Volstagg’s disgusting beard would look well-groomed compared to my curls. I’d tried so hard to keep them neat and out of the way. This would be worse than a bit of dirt or sweat. Oh, my poor, gorgeous locks! What a fate they were consigned to.

Thor thumped down the stairs, humming off-key. “I have dinner!”

I didn’t turn. What was food compared with the disaster that my hair was becoming?

“Loki? What’s wrong?” 

I twisted my face in misery as I tilted my head to look at him. “Oh, nothing. You wouldn’t understand.” I pulled my gaze away. I couldn’t believe he would bite on this.

“Please, brother, tell me. I will do everything I can to help you.” Dear Norns, the oaf was genuinely concerned.

Time to work it a little harder. My breathing hitched slightly and I brought my shoulders up. “It’s too trivial. I know I should be stronger than this.”

He sounded genuinely alarmed now. “What is it?”

“My hair is a mess, and I don’t think it will ever be clean and out of the way again,” I said, letting my breathing shake as my body began to tremble. He was swallowing the bait like a treat on a feastday.

“Just hair? Get over it.”

I was in full-on suppressed fake sobbing at this point. “I… I… knew you woul…wouldn’t care.”

“It’s not that I don’t care, it’s that I don’t know how to help. What do you need?” Dear _Norns_ , he was so easy to manipulate! He would die in politics within a week.

I took my time coming out of the fit. “I have a drawer in my bathroom. I keep everything I need in there. But I need all of it, and, of course, that’s impossible. I’m a prisoner, whether I like it or not….” I let myself fall back into the sniffles.

“Shh, Loki, don’t worry,” he said anxiously, opening the door and crouching beside me. “But don’t you think an entire drawer is a little overkill?”

“No. I need all of it,” I insisted, scrubbing at my dry face with my sleeve.

“Eat something, brother. I’m still not totally convinced this is a good plan. That much?” He passed me a tray, which I took. 

“Thank you. I know you’ll do what’s best.” I gave him a small, shy, tired smile, angling my face so he couldn’t see the complete lack of tear tracks.

He rolled his eyes, sighing in irritation. “Fine. An entire drawer full of hair supplies. Honestly, Loki, this is ridiculous.” 

I poked my fork at him. “Just because you prefer to look like you tangled with a bush- and lost- doesn’t mean anyone else does.” As he slipped out, I focused on my dinner. The fish was dressed in a sweet tangy sauce, and it complemented the salad and admirably. I bit into a lightly buttered slice of fresh bread. It was still warm, and the gentle flavor soothed me. I sighed in pleasure. Thor must have hurried to get the tray to me so quickly. The kitchens were quite a long way from the dungeon.

The salad also had a light dressing, this time cold. The spinach and walnuts added a lovely texture change and I set the tray down for a moment to savor it. I was honestly surprised that such fancy fare had been set before me. I was, after all, a prisoner, although the circumstances surrounding that bit were a little hazy. I swallowed the mouthful and glanced around for something to drink. A metal pitcher steamed faintly nearby and I spotted a clay cup next to it. Curious, I poured a stream of liquid into the cup. It was a clear, golden brown color, and smelled vaguely fruity. I took a cautious sip. Once the hot beverage hit my tongue, I realized that it was the Midgardian drink called _tea_. I’d had it a few times before, though not enough to recognize it on sight. The flavor was subtle, but pleasant, and it warmed me thoroughly from the inside. The heat in the chill air was delightful, and I held the cup close. The thought occurred to me that, somewhere upstairs, there was someone who genuinely cared about my comfort. Tea was not found on Asgard, which narrowed the choices down to Thor, which was unlikely, or Jane. It was funny to think that I had such an influence while locked away in a cell. I took another swallow of the hot, slightly bitter drink and leaned against the low stone ledge to finish my supper. 

Just as I swiped the last crust of bread around the plate to pick up any remaining sauces, Thor and Volstagg descended into view, arms piled high with brushes, combs, shampoos, conditioners, and all the rest of my hair care supplies as well as some extras. I had to set a hand against the column behind me, I was laughing so hard. After a few moments, I recovered myself enough to stand and scoop up my tea, nudging the pitcher out of the way with the side of my foot. “Hello,” I said, still smirking. “You do know the drawer comes out, don’t you? You didn’t have to carry it all in your arms.” Volstagg glared at me from behind a silver tin of gel. I couldn’t keep the grin off my face. Thor dumped his armload inside and I clicked my tongue in irritation. “Be careful with my stuff, brother.” I knelt and sorted the bits out, relocating items into neat piles based on purpose. Once I finished, I motioned to Volstagg to set his load down, taking another swallow of tea. In a few moments, I had organized the mess into necessary and unnecessary piles. I gestured to the latter. “You can take that back upstairs with you. It’s more than I need. Also, Thor, is Jane here?” 

He nodded slowly. “Yes. She arrived an hour or so ago. As a matter of fact-” 

“Tell her thank you, from me, for the tea. It’s excellent.” Thor opened his mouth, then shut it with an audible clop. 

“Other pertinent information I don’t have- where’s the bathroom?” 

“Do you need it?” my brother asked, seemingly keen to get off the subject of tea. 

“Yes, actually, I do. I assume that I’ll have some way of relieving myself when you’re not around?” Thor motioned me to leave the cell and I stepped over the piles and down onto the dark flagstones of the corridor. 

“We’re posting a guard on you. If you need anything, such as water, food, or the bathroom, ask.” 

I shook my head. “You have vastly overestimated me, brother. You feel it necessary to post a guard, as the cell clearly can’t contain me, despite the fact that I’ve had multiple chances to attempt escape, with motivation to do so, and haven’t succeeded? I’m flattered.” 

Thor turned me to face him. “Loki, my brother, if the whatever-it-is tracks you down here, you’re trapped. This way, you have a line of defense as well as a method of communication.” 

“I’m not totally convinced that this is completely altruistic. I still think you want eyes on me in case I try something.” 

He shrugged uncomfortably. “That was a consideration. Here we are.” I raised my eyebrows at the worn door but slipped inside.

The tiny room was as dingy as the rest of the palace was clean. I wrinkled my nose and hurried, but the stale stenches of urine and vomit assaulted me. The taps were rusty, the water metallic-smelling, and I used my foot to flush the toilet. I had no idea what might be on the handle and didn’t want to know. Thor tilted his head in surprise as I came out in only a few moments. “That was fast. I didn’t realize you loved your cell so much.” 

I grimaced, already walking back the way we’d come. “I don’t. But that thing is foul, really and truly disgusting. I can’t believe nobody’s cleaned it in years, but that’s what it looks like. Honestly, they could have left a tiny bit of dust in some vacant corner down here and dealt with that instead.” 

He nodded thoughtfully. “I could see about that, perhaps.” 

“Oh, do.” We walked in silence for another minute before arriving at my prison. I squeezed my brother’s shoulder, just once, lightly, then entered the golden room. Volstagg had taken the extra pile and left, I noted with pleasure. There might be hope for him after all. I passed the tray out to Thor, but gestured to the cup and pitcher. “I’ll keep these. The warm tea is wonderful down here.” 

He nodded, then raised his palm to the seal. “Sleep well.” The door closed behind his retreating back. 

I shook myself and studied the area. I’d deal with the hair supplies in the morning, I decided, absentmindedly running a gold comb through the tangled spot and teasing out the knots. I glanced over at the cot and realized I had no pillow. I shrugged and slipped off the tabard I wore, rolling it into a sloppy log. I dropped it and unbuckled Alinea from my waist, sliding the blade under the makeshift headrest. Oathbreaker and Moondark I pulled out and set under the cot, leather bindings tied around the scabbards. The cot creaked as I sat down, tugging off my shoes. I remembered then that I didn’t know how soon the lights would turn out and, yawning, crossed the room barefoot to pick up the book of mysteries. I pulled both blankets over myself and curled up to read. I never got the volume open. Between a full stomach, the exhaustion of the day, and the comforting warmth of the thick blankets, I fell asleep only a few seconds after I dropped my head to the pillow.

My dreams, as always, left me in a cold sweat when I awakened. The corridors were dark as my eyes cracked open and even the faint glow of the walls seemed harsh. I lay on my back, breathing slowly, forcing myself to relax. I thought of the tea still on the floor somewhere and sat up carefully, setting my bare feet on the ice-cold stone. I hissed softly, but kept them down, rising into a standing position and resting one hand on the wall. I inched forward, sliding my hand before me. As it reached the rune-window that formed much of the wall, the golden designs flared to life. The heat scalded my palm, yet illumined the cell just enough for me to see the pot of tea and the cup not two paces from me. I reached out and seized them, breaking contact with the wall to do so. The room plunged back into darkness. I was only a step or so in front of the cot, so I backed up until my knees hit the edge of the bed and sat down gently. The pitcher was frigid, but I carefully poured some tea into the cup and drank. The bitter tones had come out more strongly, yet not altogether unpleasantly, in the hours the beverage had chilled. I shivered and set the cup down, then pulled the covers back over myself.

Once I closed my eyes, the images of my dream floated back before me. I tossed, trying to shake them away, but I was too tired and fell back into the nightmare. I was alone in a great, echoing metal hall, clad in only a knee-length floppy tunic and loose trousers. The floor was marked with faint, glowing blue lines in a checkered pattern, barely warm underfoot. A breeze stirred my hair and I turned to see a slight girl staring at me, silver light shimmering on her outstretched palm. I stepped slowly closer, hands at shoulder height, and noticed that her hair was a shocking shade of pink. I blinked, realizing that her skin, which I’d originally thought brown, was actually a midnight blue tone. She was wearing a similar outfit, but her tunic was fitted to the hip and looser in the skirt. Where my clothes were solid deep green, her overgarment was a pale, minty shade, with white trousers beneath. The sleeves of the tunic were slit to the elbow, falling in delicate cascades past her waist. I tilted my head. My sleeves fit snugly and ended just before my wrists. Did that mean anything?

I opened my mouth to speak, but the unknown girl got there before me. “What is a Three-Seven like you doing here? You should be in bed. Where is your dorm leader?” 

I stared at her in utter confusion. “What is a dorm leader? And what does Three-Seven mean?” She came closer, the silvery flames dancing seductively. 

“Who are you?” she murmured. “You bear no badge, yet you do not look like any dreamer that has come here before. What is your name?” 

I gave her a wary glance. “I would rather not disclose that information.” 

She nodded, slowly, then thrust the handful of fire into my face. I tried to shriek, but fell backwards, paralyzed. The girl, who was clearly a gifted magician, flicked her fingers and I rose upwards, into the air, and beyond the rafters of the building, out and away. A sudden terror filled me, and I tried desperately to twist around, but my limbs did not obey my commands. I squeezed my eyes shut, wishing myself awake, but it did no good. I felt a hard metal table under me, and a hand pressed on my chest, pinning me down. My arms were pulled under me and hard leather cuffs fastened around my wrists. 

My eyes shot open and I sneezed. The girl’s feathery pink hair was in my face as she bent over me, holding me onto the table. “What are you doing to me?” I snapped. 

She made no reply, only ran her hand firmly down one leg and pinioned it as well. I tried to kick her, but she caught my foot deftly and stared at it for a second before fiddling with something on the table, then forcing my second leg down and fastening a cuff around it, well above the ankle. I was confused for a moment until I remembered the tracker. Of course she’d need to adjust how she restrained me. I began to laugh softly, then, as my desperation mounted, louder and louder. Was I going to be tossed around again, helpless as always? Why was I here, of all places? The girl did not even pause to glance at me. She left me trussed and walked away, returning a moment later with a long metal rod. I could feel the heat coming off it in waves. She brought the end nearer and nearer my face. “All right. Before you stab me, could we discuss this?” I asked, attempting a smile. She bared her teeth in response. “Now really. What have I done to you? I am sorry if I’ve offended you. Could you let me up? We can talk like civilized beings.” 

She finally spoke. “You are not a ‘civilized being’. Why should I care?” 

“Please, think about this,” I begged, but the rod simply kept coming. _Fine_ , I thought. _Last-ditch effort: break her eardrums. Worked on Thor when we were small._ I began to scream, as loudly as I possibly could, but she didn’t even flinch. I threw myself sideways, thrashing against the bonds, though it did no good. She smiled gently and lifted the tip to my cheek. I tried to pull away, even held fast as I was. I convulsed, desperate, and pulled the entire table over on top of me. The poker descended towards me anyway, unstoppable. It hovered for a second, a bare centimeter above my face, then, as I squeezed my eyelids tight shut, brushed lightly against me. The searing pain was immediate. I howled, and my eyes flew open again. 

It was dark in the cell, and my breath came in ragged gasps. I touched a hand to my face and felt a warm, sticky fluid there. Touching the wet fingers to my tongue, I recognized the taste of blood. I realized I was on the floor, and I set my hand down. Something rough and sharp, slightly curved, met my fingers, and I hurriedly lifted it again. Slowly I sat up, leaning against the edge of the cot. I’d tossed enough to have fallen out of bed, and the cut on my cheek could have come from…what? One of my knives, perhaps? Then I remembered the clay cup I’d placed beside the cot and felt around again. Sure enough, there were a few jagged pieces of pottery. I could easily have hit the cup with enough force to break it, and the resulting pieces might have sliced my face as I rolled around. I pushed myself to an unsteady standing position, then collapsed onto the cot. My legs could not support me. I pressed the back of my left hand to my cheekbone, trying to stem the steady drip of blood, and felt around for a blanket. I pulled the warm, thick cloth around me and took slow, exaggerated breaths. My pulse raced so quickly that my blood seemed almost fizzy, my hands trembling faintly. 

I sat there for what seemed like hours as the blood dried on my cheek and my pulse gradually slowed. Just as I had begun trying to unstick my hand without shredding the new scabs, the lights flicked on. I blinked rapidly, trying to accustom myself to the sudden brightness. Bluish spots danced before my eyes as I struggled to focus, and I heard a familiar deep voice rumbling indistinctly. “Heimdall? My apologies, but I can’t quite see you. Sudden bright light and all,” I called quietly. The spots had receded enough that, shading my eyes with my free hand, I could make out the blazing white of the floor and, beyond that, the walls, gold as Heimdall leaned in closer. I shook my head carefully, then peeled my left hand from my face, wincing at the sudden, sharp pain. I got up and searched for a towel or cloth of some sort to mop up the fresh streams of blood, glancing up at the dark giant’s impassive stare. “Can you get me some water to clean up this mess?” 

He set his hand on the seal and ducked inside before the door had opened fully. “Why are you bleeding, and what happened to your furniture?” he demanded. I turned, and stiffened at the sight behind me. The broken cup lay next to an overturned pitcher, and the cold tea had soaked the tabard, which must have been knocked off the bed. The book was open face-down another two meters away. I swallowed guiltily and looked away. The cot itself was twisted to an odd angle, spattered with blood, and crumpled at one end. I was fairly sure it wasn’t supposed to do that. To add to all the mess, dark reddish stains covered large chunks of the surrounding stone. “I had a nightmare. Nothing important,” I demurred. 

“Some nightmare,” he said doubtfully. I shrugged, wiping my face gently with a blanket, the best I had been able to come up with. The rough material was uncomfortable to say the least.

Heimdall stared at me for a moment longer. “Do you want breakfast now, or later, once you’ve cleaned up?” 

I barked a short laugh, resting my head against the stone behind me. “With this disaster, I won’t eat until lunchtime if I try to clean up first. I’m going to have to find a new cot, and coat, and cup, and….” I sighed in frustration. 

He patted my shoulder and I stared at him. Heimdall had always seemed to cordially hate me, and I returned the sentiment with interest. Why was he showing me sympathy now? I blinked as he slid a tray, much like the one I’d used last night, towards me and left, sealing the door behind himself. I needed water to clean myself, for certain, and fresh clothes at the least. A shower would be preferable. I growled and picked up my breakfast. I was locked in a cell where I was, for every intent and purpose, useless, when I desperately needed to gather all the information I could. I needed a plan, any and all knowledge of this monster chasing me, and I could get none of it. I also needed to eat. Hunger was clouding my judgement. I shoveled eggs into my mouth, suddenly ravenous. By the time I finished, I had a visitor.


	7. Right After All

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again! I hope you're all doing well. Disclaimer: I am neither an astronomer nor a physicist nor an astrophysicist- any science in this chapter is absolutely and totally made up. Anyway, enjoy reading!

_My father has never been so angry. He locks Ev in her room until she promises never to repeat the nickname again. “Ezzy?” she calls when he finally lets her out. “Little one, I’m so sorry. You are my Azrel, you know that. You are my charm.”_

_“Karma-Azrel,” I remind her. I hate it when people forget my full name just because it has a hyphen. Ezzy is fine. So is Karma-Azrel. But not just Azrel. Ever._

_She nods and strokes my hair. “Karma-Azrel. Fate’s Charm.”_

_I grin. “Ondarev. New Leaf.” I’ve always loved the meaning of her name, the delicate yet hardy first leaves of spring._

_She winces. “I don’t want to be known that way anymore. I am Everett. Damaret has never left me and she never will.”_

_“Everett.” The mishmash of syllables feels strange on my tongue. “Everett.” I look at my sister. “I’m not sure I like it.”_

_She laughs and picks me up, even though I'm a little too tall for the action to be natural. “Get used to it. Do you want to hear a story?”_

_I pull one of her dangling braids. “I’m supposed to ask that. But of course I do.” Maybe my sister is back after all._

*******************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************

Jane stood uncertainly outside the cell, staring at the disaster inside. I smiled encouragingly, dried blood cracking near my mouth. “How are you this morning? I’d comment on the lovely weather, but I have no idea what it’s like outside.” Her eyes flicked to me and she stepped back instinctively. I couldn’t blame her. Even with my best efforts, half my face was covered in red-brown stains and it was likely my hair was matted on that side as well. 

“Loki, are you all right? Only you’re covered in blood and…maybe tea? You look awful.” 

I spread my hands. “Nothing a good shower can’t fix. I’m sorry for the mess. Somehow a shower wouldn’t improve that.” 

She laughed despite herself, and the tension between us eased. “Heimdall told me you’d attempted escape and were lying about it. I think. I was slightly distracted when he was talking to me.” 

It was my turn to chuckle. “Hardly. Horrible nightmare, fell out of bed, hit my head on the cup I used last night. It broke and cut my cheek. All there was to it.” 

She nodded. “I’ll tell Thor you need a shower. A decent shower, not whatever lurks down here. Then maybe you two can talk and… yeah? I feel sorry for that book.” 

I bowed to her, grinning. “At last! Someone who understands the importance of hot water.” 

She rolled her eyes. “Be back in five.” And then she was gone, up the stairs, and I had a gory prison to attempt to clean up.

I set the book back with the others, then picked up my knives and set them in that corner as well. The dried blood was flaking off my face now, itching fiercely. I scratched my face and sneezed violently. A shower of little crusty brown bits fell away from me, drifting to the floor. I pulled a face and turned to the cot, shoulders slumping. I lifted the blankets away, tossing them onto the window seat. They were clean enough not to be a problem. I prodded the tabard with one bare foot. It was sodden with tea, as I’d expected. I dragged the cot away from the mess and attempted to fold it, but I had clearly broken the mechanism. I shook my head and shoved it away from me, sinking to the floor as it slammed into the stone wall. This was definitely not good. First, I didn’t get all the information I needed, then I was locked up, and now I had annihilated any chances I had of proving myself dependable enough to get out. I hit my forehead with the palm of my hand. _Think, Loki,_ I told myself sternly. _Think. What do you need, what do you want, and what do you have?_ There was precious little in the latter column, now that I’d given up my biggest advantage. They knew that I didn’t know what was after me. I needed more information, a new cot, and some water to clean up. I desperately wanted a shower and fresh clothes. Of that, I might get the bed and the water. I growled in frustration, slapping the floor.

“Well,” a cheerful voice remarked, “You look like you’re having a delightful morning.” 

I didn’t turn around. “Thor. What do you want?” 

The cell door slid open for the second time in fifteen minutes and my brother pulled my shoulders to face him. “Loki, you’re covered in blood.” 

“I hadn’t noticed,” I interrupted. 

“What did you do to this place?” 

“I trashed it pretty well, didn’t I?” 

He sighed in exasperation. “Yes, you did. Was this really all a nightmare?” 

I nodded. “I did a bit of tossing and turning before I fell out of bed, broke the cup with my skull, then cut myself on the shards. I think I knocked over my pot of tea as well.” 

Thor let out a dry chuckle. “I believe you. Now, business. Jane said you wanted a shower. I think you also need a new bed, a mop, and fresh clothes. You need to do something for me first, before you get any of that.” 

I raised one eyebrow. “Go on.” 

He grinned at me suddenly. “I need some illusions.” 

I stared at him. “You want me to do magic? You actually want me to do magic? What does Heimdall say?” 

Thor’s insane smile grew even wider. “It was his idea. You up for it?” 

A similar smile spread across my own features. “I would like the shower and clothes before I start. I look like someone’s just attempted to knife me. After that, I am glad to agree.” 

My brother shook his head. “You drive a hard bargain. Right then.” We shook hands and stood up. I glanced over to where the shackles lay in the corner. Thor was staring at them too, but after a second he shook his head and took my shoulder, steering me out of the room and into the hallway. 

As the door slid closed behind us, I stretched my hands out to the sides and shook them in delight. “You hear that, Thor? Hear that?” 

He stared at me in confusion. “I don’t hear anything, Loki.” 

I nodded, grinning maniacally. “Exactly.” Thor gave me a blank look for a few more seconds, then propelled me up the staircase and out of the dungeons.

I had to admit that my brother had learned a bit about how to be sneaky. We slipped through dark corridors, my bare feet sticking slightly on the chill tiles, silent, until we reached my rooms. I flicked my fingers and the great oak doors opened silently, then strolled inside and allowed the doors to fall to. Thor glared at me. “Magic, Loki? After all you’ve learned?” 

I shrugged, already rifling through the closet. “You wanted me to do illusions for you. That’ll pretty clearly declare my presence, don’t you think?” He fell silent, obviously stunned by my superior logic. I stepped into the large, clean bathroom and sighed in satisfaction. I infinitely preferred this to a small, odiferous closet somewhere in the depths of Asgard’s prison. I quickly had hot water flowing in the shower and wiggled my fingers in the drops falling onto my palm. I realized then that showering fully clothed was perhaps inadvisable and undressed hurriedly, ducking into the hot water. It was wonderful. Whatever Heimdall might say about security, and whatever effort Thor might put into it, my cell lacked any possible charm. I arched my back and let the water fall over my chest, then remembered I needed to clean up and began delicately scrubbing at my face. I hissed as I broke open the half-healed scabs, but continued anyway. 

I finished soon enough and, pausing only to turn the water so hot it scalded my skin slightly, began working shampoo through my hair. Happily, Thor and Volstagg hadn’t pillaged the shower cubbies in their rampage for anything hair related. I shook my curls back under the water, running my fingers through them to rinse out the rest of the suds. They caught in each other, but I wasn’t worried at all. I grabbed my bottle of deep conditioner and poured some into my palm. The conditioner was my favorite, but I used it sparingly. It was hard to get, as it was made in Nidavellir, though the best I’d found. I teased my fingers gently through the tangled ends, working the conditioner into the knots. Stretching, I pulled my fingers through the final snarls and cleaned them well under the steaming jet. I picked up a wide-tooth comb and began working it through my hair, until it slid smoothly from scalp to ends. I rinsed the final vestiges of the conditioner out and, sighing, turned off the tap. I’d spent long enough in here. 

The rest of the bathroom was opaque with steam, and I blundered into a few corners before finding my towel. I wrapped it around myself and cracked open the door to allow adequate venting. A startled yelp emanated from the wider expanse beyond. I smiled to myself, drying off rapidly and tugging the uncooperative shirt and trousers on over my slightly damp body. I pulled the door the rest of the way open and sauntered out, combing the wet curls back smoothly from my face. I grabbed the top portion and twisted it around my finger, pausing to pick up a silver clip and snap it over the tail of hair. Thor stood gawking at me. “Did you set off a steam bomb or something?” 

I shrugged noncommitally and pulled a tunic off its hanger. “I took a hot shower.” 

The tunic caught on the clip and I clicked my tongue in irritation, reaching awkwardly behind my head to free it before yanking the garment down onto my shoulders. I fussed with the slanting hem for a few seconds, then tossed a clean tabard on and stared down at my shoes. I had several pairs of boots, but I didn’t know if I could actually get them on under the tracker. I decided I had no option other than to try. I lifted a pair dubiously and walked over to the bed, sitting down and sliding the first one over my unencumbered leg. I ran my finger around the upper rim of the tracker, thinking. How did I need to work the leather under the cuff? I put my foot inside the top of the boot and pulled it up to the very edge of the metal band, forcing one small section under. I grimaced as the toughened leather pinched my skin, but kept going, twisting and shoving until most of the boot top was under the tracker. I switched tactics slightly, focusing my efforts in one spot until a tiny scrap peeked over the upper edge of the metal. I grabbed it and pulled as hard as I could, then shifted my grip to another exposed bit of leather and repeated the process, working my way around and around my leg until the boot was firmly seated on my foot. I stood up and bounced up and down a few times to settle it, giving the shoe a final tug, before tucking in the pants and turning to Thor. “Lead on, brother.” 

To my mild surprise, we walked directly to the War Room. Jane stood flicking through reports, making notes on a piece of paper beside her. She didn’t notice as we walked in, and jumped visibly when Thor set one hand on her shoulder. “What have you found?” he murmured. 

She tossed her head. “Don’t do that! You scared me. Next time, knock.” He bowed his head gravely and slid the paper deftly away from her, scanning it quickly. Jane snatched it back, adding a few more notes, then sighed. “Loki, come here. You need to see this.” 

I raised one eyebrow as I obeyed. “How did you know I was here?” She rolled her eyes. “Please. You smell like a perfumery. Especially when you’ve just gotten out of the shower.” 

I crossed my arms. “I do not.” 

Thor snorted. “Nice way to put it. Honestly, Loki, what do you do in there?” 

“I washed my hair. Is it the shampoo, perhaps? You know, the stuff you never use?” I sniffed a curl that had fallen over one shoulder. It didn’t smell like much of anything. 

“Enough, you two. Loki, you still need to look at this.” I took the sheet of paper she proffered and glanced over it. 

“Jane, I don’t have the first clue on how to decipher this.” 

She hid a smile and turned the paper around. “Start by reading it right side up.” 

I glanced up. “That seems more one of Thor’s challenges than mine.” Once it had been rotated, the odd shapes formed understandable words.

I stared at the paper, willing it to say anything else. Nothing changed. I blinked, squeezing my eyes closed and reopening them, but the words were still there. I read them again in dawning fury.  
_Tracker signal homing in on frequency-- possibly interested in use as energy, Xr ER bridge notes. Power output possibly quite high, noting similar hi-freq outbursts near edge of M65. Could be harnessed with adequate control?_ The rest of the page contained nothing but meaningless scribbles. I stared at Jane, forcing my legs to hold me up. “You think they want to use me as- as some sort of energy reservoir, but would have to force me to obey in order for it to work? You think that they’ve already started messing with me somehow?” 

“The first part, yes. The second part, no. I think they’ve got someone else, who just isn’t quite powerful enough, and have been testing systems.” 

I laughed. “Coming after me is a foolish plan. I may be powerful enough, but I’m also a prince of Asgard, a heavily guarded interdimensional war criminal, and the brother of one of the more powerful beings in the universe by turns. It wouldn’t exactly be a stealth operation to steal me.” Thor frowned, clearly attempting to work out why anyone would want me. 

“Unless,” Jane murmured, “they want to make a statement. You’re relatively easy to find, and snatching you right out from under-” 

“Everyone’s noses would give them a nice entrance,” I finished. 

Thor broke in. “They- do we know who they are?- they want to use my brother as a- battery? What sort of harebrained, nonsensical scheme is that?” _And what’s a battery?_ I added mentally, reminding myself to look it up later.

Jane smiled tightly. “I haven’t seen Loki actually wield magic, but if I had to guess, beyond illusions, he has to actually change the way atoms around him move. Right?” 

I shrugged. “Kind of. It’s not something I think about consciously very much. The energy sort of leaves me and goes into whatever I tell it to. I was born able to do it, so it’s just natural.” I stopped, aware I was rambling, and shrugged again, flattening my palms on the table.

Jane continued anyway. “So, if that’s true, one could potentially rewire a spaceship’s operating systems enough to use Loki to supply huge amounts of power to it without increasing the mass at all. For small distances, he could probably just use his… talents to throw himself, and whatever he was on, away from a base at very high speeds. I was thinking more near-lightspeed engine than battery, but yeah.” 

I groaned. “Great. Now everyone will think I’m some sort of freaky mechanical slingshot. Thank you so much.” I slumped into a chair, anger and disgust warring within me. On my list of possible reasons I’d be a desirable ally, my raw ability to produce energy was never on there. Why didn’t they just create some engine to do it for them, improving on previous designs, perhaps. I was not a commodity or a power generator, to be stolen and traded. I slammed my fist down on the table, pale light leaking from between my fingers. “Norns curse them all!”

“Control yourself, Loki,” a deep voice rumbled and I spun. Heimdall’s hand rested on the back of my chair. 

I glared at him, trembling slightly, but before anything more could happen, Jane’s quiet whisper broke in. “Could you perhaps stop destroying the table, Loki? It seems a waste of furniture.” 

I turned and saw dark icy marks where the energy had spilled over from my fingers. I hurriedly set my hand in my lap, grimacing in apology. I very rarely got upset enough to actually damage anything accidentally. I checked my fingers. They weren’t visibly blue. Hopefully that little secret would stay hidden a while longer. I breathed slowly, trying to relax, forcing the anger to the back of my mind. I had to crack a smile at the frozen tableau around me. Heimdall was still and silent at the back of my chair. Jane stared fixedly at the melting streaks on the table. Thor was visibly holding his breath, keen to avoid any further outburst, I guessed. I mopped the puddles up with my sleeve and clapped my hands. “Right. What next?”

All three relaxed and Jane nodded a few times, but nobody said anything. “Thor, you wanted illusions out of me, yes? What did you want?” 

My brother jerked slightly, then looked up at me. “Well, we wanted you to be a more enticing target, you know….” He trailed off uncertainly, eyes wide. He’d certainly noticed how upset I was trying not to be. I kept my face perfectly blank. 

“I see. You have finally admitted that I am, as always, right, and that using me as bait is our best course of action. So, when do we start? Because that cell is getting very boring.” 

Heimdall grunted once, then spoke. “You’re not quite right on one front. You’re not getting out of the cell. You’re going to do some illusion work, powerful, ostentatious stuff, then sit back where we can keep an eye on you.” 

I massaged my forehead with my fingertips. “Can we just get one thing straight here? It’s rather confusing me. Am I a prisoner to be contained, an ally to be manipulated, or a threat to be managed? It seems like all three are generally applicable and mutually exclusive.”

Of course, I got no answer. I growled and dropped my hand. “Fine. Let’s get this over with. Where are we going? And Thor, you’d better not forget that you promised me new furniture.” 

I pushed my chair back and stood. The others rose as well, but as I motioned them to lead the way, Heimdall caught my wrists and pulled them behind me. I wrenched them away, turning to face him. “In case you never paid attention, hands are very important in magic. I need both fully mobile.” He tilted his golden head, then seized one arm again and closed a manacle around it. I shook my head in disbelief. “Did you really not listen to a word I said?” 

He smiled slowly. “I did listen.” And then he held out the second cuff, open, as though he wanted me to put my wrist in it. I stared at him, opening my mouth to retort, then closing it again. I made no move to resist as he lifted my hand and dropped it into the waiting ring of iron, snapping it shut briskly. He patted me on the back and turned me towards the door. “There you are. Let’s not be late, shall we?” I pressed my lips together, bowing my head, my steps dragging. Heimdall took my upper arm and tugged me forwards, down the hall. “Make an effort to move, won’t you?” As the all-too-familiar clank of the chains began again, I realized that my brief respite was over. Whatever trust Thor had shown me earlier was unimportant. I was the prisoner, and while I might be shown pity on occasion to make me more cooperative, I was no more a person to my own brother than I was to the aliens that wanted to use me as a power source.


	8. Flight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again! So I tagged this story with the Graphic Depictions of Violence, and this chapter is most of the reason why. There's violence towards a child at the end. I've offset it with a few asterisks if it bothers you, but it is important to the plot. Trigger warning as well for memories of bullying. I hope that was helpful and that you enjoy reading.

_For a few blissful months, it’s as though everything is normal again. Ev tells me stories and I brush tangles out of her hair every night before braiding it into neat layers. Her final exams are creeping up slowly, and she spends much of the evening working on mathematical forms with Father and calligraphy and wordcraft with Mother. No matter how busy she is, she always has a few minutes for me at the end of the day. I feel special, perfect; it’s as though she wants to seize every moment and hold it tight, sucking all the love and joy out of it. She even starts to teach me some of the basics of knife fighting. “Defending yourself is a skill you’ll always need, Karaz. Might as well begin now.” I’m not sure what I think of the nickname, but her hands are warm on mine and her presence is steadying as she shows me how to block and thrust. If I could have any other life, I wouldn’t take it. No matter what._

***********************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************

I jerked my arm away from Heimdall and, as he stared at me, whirled and dashed down a side corridor. I careened blindly around corners, desperate to put myself as far away from them as possible, until even my acute senses of direction were bewildered and my breath rasped in my chest. The tiny corridor I was in was dark, lit only by a flickering torch at one end. I sank to the floor, wrapping my bound arms over my knees and leaning into the rough stone wall. The cuffs were heavier then anything I’d ever worn in that moment, and they dragged me down. I was silent, miserable, desperate, a fugitive in my own home with no chance of escaping detection. I stiffened every muscle in my face, forcing myself upright, pinning my shoulder blades together, painting a perfect smile over my mouth. I held the mask for a moment, then let it fall. My head bowed and I huddled in the corner, totally alone and exhausted. If I set up a web of illusion, I could draw my pursuit away. It would give me a chance to do- what? Run farther? The chains on my wrists clanked against the tracker and I admitted that plan was hopeless. Thor could find me faster than I could run. Besides that, I didn’t actually know where I was, which meant that using convincing projections would be near impossible. I would be best served trying to bluff my way out. Except there was no good explanation for what I’d done. I’d do what I’d had to do so many times, then. Take the beating and keep going.

I heard voices approaching, sharp footfalls, and the tiny corner was flooded with light. Thor, Heimdall and Sif marched towards me, but I didn’t budge. What was the point? I had no easy escape and I could see the cold glint of weapons in their hands. I was perfectly still and silent as they surrounded me; I did not twitch as the point of a sword came to rest in the hollow of my jaw, just under my ear. “This is him, isn’t it?” Sif asked, prodding me with her toe. “He didn’t send doubles off for us to chase?” 

Thor’s voice was grave as he answered. “Yes. Loki cannot escape the tracker, and this is where it says he is.” I closed my eyes and waited. I would be punished for this somehow, I knew, and didn’t want to face any more pain than I had to. A rough hand grabbed my hair and dragged me to my feet. As it relinquished me, I fell back against the wall, eyes still closed. I could feel their stares on me without looking. They were angry, disappointed, as though I’d broken some agreement. I wasn’t aware of doing any such thing, but some people had strange ideas about me. I realized that I had stiffened and forced myself to sag once again. I’d learned as a child that punches hurt less if you were relaxed. 

“Loki,” my brother growled warningly, “Don’t do anything else stupid.” I opened my eyes and glanced at his grim visage for an instant before dropping my head back onto the wall. 

“I think he expects to be hit,” Sif sneered. “Coward. Runs off and then gets scared of the consequences.” 

“I’m not scared,” I murmured. “You’ve just interrupted my nap.” I regretted the words as soon as I’d said them. Heimdall’s huge fist slammed into the side of my head and I crumpled to the ground, dazed. I curled into a protective ball as Sif stepped closer, blade out. 

“Here, Thor, help me.” She grabbed the chain between my hands and began to tow me slowly along the floor, but Thor stopped her.  
He lifted me upright again and tilted my chin so I was looking at him. “This is not funny, Loki. The next time you try to pull one over on us, it will be the end of any attempts to be nice. You are going to finish the magic that we need, and then you’re going back to your cell. If you give us any more trouble, you’ll be wearing more than manacles. Got it?” 

He dropped my chin and I nodded somberly, gaze fixated on the floor. “Good. Let’s go.” 

The three surrounded me, and while Thor and Heimdall put away their weapons, Sif held her sword loosely at her side. “I’ll be right behind you, criminal,” she purred maliciously. “One move- one flicker of a move- and you won’t like the outcome.” I kept my head straight and allowed Heimdall to guide me out into the main corridor, Thor on my other side and Sif, as promised, directly behind me. I realized that my escape attempt, if that’s what it was, had been pitiful. Barely five minutes later, we emerged onto the hall leading to the War Chamber. I turned towards my brother. “Thor, where are we going?” 

He stared at me for a second, then shook his head almost imperceptibly. “You don’t need to know. All you need to do is what I tell you to.” 

Chastened, I snapped my eyes back to the floor, then, as another question occurred to me, looked at him again. “What do you want me to do, precisely?” 

He sighed. “I’ll tell you when we get there. And shut up or I’ll let Sif gag you.” I shut up, pacing silently along what felt like endless miles of marble-tiled corridors, Heimdall’s hand on my back steering me around occasional corners.

We reached a set of stairs and began to climb, up and up until my breath was harsh and rasping in my throat and my legs burned. I wasn’t about to ask to slow down. Aside from the fact that it was unlikely he would decrease the pace, Thor had made it all too clear what would happen if I opened my mouth again. I bent my head and tried to go faster. With the way the staircase curved tighter as we ascended, I guessed we were inside one of the spires of the palace. Thor must be planning something grand if we were going up this high. The steady clank of the manacles irritated me, and I grabbed the chain in one hand to quiet it. I decided this was a bad idea and let it drop as the weight, concentrated in front of me more than ever, threatened to topple me forwards. We came upon a landing and I stopped, bent over and gasping quietly. Heimdall didn’t push me on again. He was too busy doing the same thing I was. Even Thor was visibly tired, leaning on a wall to catch his breath. Only Sif acted unaffected, but a telltale sheen of sweat covered her face and arms. Once I’d recovered enough to stand up straight, I glanced around the room, noting with relief that there were no more stairs. We’d reached our mysterious destination. The room had a strange domed ceiling and was paneled in a horrible gold shade. I crossed to the window along one wall and peered out along the skyline, trying to guess our location, but before three seconds had passed Thor had dragged me back into the center of the small room. I longed to lash out at him, to ask him if he thought I planned to set fire to the city or perhaps jump out the window and fall seventy stories onto decorative spears, but didn’t. Sif’s eyes were sparkling with a glee that frankly terrified me, and she was fiddling with something inside her pocket. I realized Thor had called my name and turned to face him. “Stay right here. Don’t move,” he commanded. I folded my legs under me and sat on the ground, trying to rub the cramps out of my calves. 

The room was eerily silent for a few seconds, then Heimdall broke the silence. “How big of an illusion can you create and maintain?” he asked me. I decided that answering a direct question wouldn’t get me in trouble and thought for a second before replying. 

“I can certainly cloak this room and maintain it for fifteen minutes. Much bigger and there are too many factors to hold it for more than a few seconds. People, for example, moving through something I’ve masked to look like solid rock. Does that help?” I saw his golden helmet bob up and down out of the corner of my eye and smiled inwardly. He was clearly calculating what I could do to the surrounding areas. 

Thor paced by the window, deep in thought, then glared at me. “Come here.” I stood up and stepped quietly over to him, staring in the direction of his pointing finger at the clouds. “Can you project an army of spaceships up there?” he asked. 

I tilted my head, considering the question. “Possibly. I’ve never tried something that far away. Do you want me to do it?” 

He grinned humorlessly. “That was the general idea.” 

I held my wrists out to him. “Right. Take these off and I’ll get started.”

I never saw the blow that Sif aimed to the back of my head, but I found myself flat on the floor, ears ringing. I struggled to sit up, grimacing as a fresh headache sprang to life. “If you keep doing that, I’ll be too brain-damaged to work any magic.” I pushed myself unsteadily to my feet, taking a step back to the window. “One army of spaceship illusions, yes? I’ll need my hands to do something like that. You’re going to have to take the cuffs off.” Thor glared at me suspiciously, but unlocked the manacles. I rubbed my arms briskly and shook them out, then stood perfectly still, focusing on the image I wanted. Huge, sleek, triangular gray vessels would be nice. I lifted one arm to the sky, flaring my fingers out. I felt the illusions come into life and seized Thor’s shoulder to keep me upright as I channeled more energy into the ships. Sif gasped. “Holy mother of Ymir!” Screams echoed from the streets below and I risked a glance at my illusion. I’d done a good job: the ships seemed solid enough to touch. I held it for a few more seconds until my entire body began to tremble and I had to release the projection. I set my second hand on Thor’s shoulder as well, allowing him to support my entire body weight. 

Heimdall was silent for a few moments, then laughed uncomfortably. “Is that all you can do? Conjure a fleet of ships from nowhere and keep them afloat for a full minute?” 

I released my brother and smiled tiredly. “Well, I’m not doing that again soon. I’ll stick to people and the occasional room, I believe. Are we done now? I don’t think I could even light a candle at the moment.” 

Thor turned, cuffs dangling from one hand, and nodded. “That should do it. Loki, that was terrifying.” 

I shrugged. “You hit things really hard. I assure you, that is just as terrifying. Still, you’d better shackle me again before Sif takes matters into her own hands. She seems to agree with you.” I held out my wrists and Thor cinched the cold bands of iron around them once more. Behind me, I heard a soft sigh as Sif relaxed. I allowed a fleeting grin to touch my features, then turned to the stairs, shoulders falling slightly. I’d never been the most graceful of people, and, with my hands bound, tired as I was, it was unlikely I’d get down without falling. I sighed and took the first step, Heimdall hurrying to catch up with me. 

“Take it easy,” he murmured. 

I looked at him, face straight. “Is that genuine concern for my health I detect, Heimdall? Or is it just the fact that I’ll fall faster than you can walk down these stairs?” 

He glared at me. “One more word, and I’ll let Sif-” I nodded, shrugged, and focused on the steps again, taking each one deliberately and canting my weight back slightly. 

Once again at my back, Sif growled. “Can we move any slower? Honestly.” I began to relax as the turns widened and we came closer to the base of the staircase. Finally, we emerged onto the wide, blessedly flat hallway and began to make our way back to the dungeon. Heimdall urged me forwards as I faltered, my legs threatening to buckle under me. 

At least the second staircase down wasn’t steep. I turned to the left, towards my cell, as we reached the stone passageways below, but Thor stopped me. “Not down there.” 

I frowned in confusion. “I’m moving again? Why?” At the sound of my voice, Sif smirked, pulling the small metal rectangle out of her pocket and advancing slowly towards me. 

My brother stopped her silently by placing a hand to her chest, then met my questioning gaze. “Your bed privileges have been revoked, and that room of yours looks like a crime scene.” 

I drew myself up. “Since when is a bed a revokeable privilege? And I-” 

Thor let go of Sif. “Go on. He’s getting annoying.” She crossed the distance between us in a single stride and grabbed my chin, shoving the gag into my mouth. As I staggered back, she caught my hair and yanked me towards her. _Ow!_ I wanted to say. _I did not deserve that. Leave my hair alone._ But, of course, I couldn’t. 

The infuriating girl dusted her hands off, humming pleasantly, then addressed my brother once again. “Shall we go for a drink once we drop him off?” 

Heimdall shook his head. “We have preparations to make for an invasion. There isn’t time for you to go get drunk.” I began to laugh silently, but even that vestigial movement scraped my face against the metal and I stopped, wincing. 

Sif noticed- she always noticed- and sniggered. “Either way, the prince needs to retire to his chambers.” I narrowed my eyes. I was her prince, whatever jokes she might make, and it hurt to bow my head and allow Heimdall, chuckling softly, to steer me into an icy, empty cell. I didn’t expect them to unshackle me and wasn’t surprised. Thor sealed the door, his expression unreadable, and left without a word. I paced the perimeter of my prison, trying to think. I had acted foolishly in running away, obviously, but it couldn’t have been hard to track me down. I hadn’t gone far. Perhaps my brother had realized I wasn’t as cowed as he’d believed, or decided that I still constituted a security risk. My mind-reading skills needed some work.

I sat on a ledge by the golden rune-window, frustrated and exhausted. The hard band over the lower half of my face pressed painfully into the soft spots under my jaw. I nudged it with my shoulder, but it was immovable. I dropped my head back onto the column behind me. _What was going on? When were the aliens expected to arrive?_ I got up and began pacing again, too aggravated to stay still. Did they have to keep me locking me away where I had no access to information? The gag silenced my growls. I stood and smacked my hands into the wall, pulling my wrists as far apart as I could. The bare ten centimeters of chain drew taut and the cuffs dug in. My forehead thunked against the wall as I stood trapped and helpless and…. I forced myself to breath slowly. Fighting this was pointless. My stomach grumbled and I remembered that it was close to midday. I wondered if I would be given lunch or if I’d be left to starve. They’d have to take off the chains for me to eat, which might count against me. On the other hand, if anyone understood how important food was, Thor did. I sighed and settled in to wait. It was about all I could do.

I chewed pensively on the metal between my teeth. If the pattern I’d seen earlier held, the aliens might arrive as early as tomorrow morning. Small wonder Heimdall was worried. He didn’t have time to be watching me, and my recent escapade would only have convinced him he was right. If that was why I was stuck down here, I could at least understand the reasoning. The thought was somehow a comfort. I shivered in the cold air and wondered again when, or if, lunch would come. Distracted she might be, but I seriously doubted Jane would ever be angry enough to intentionally deny me something to eat. I closed my eyes and Sif’s triumphant sneer floated before me. 

I could almost hear her gloating about my poor footwork that time she’d tripped me with a javelin during a sparring session. As I’d lain winded on the ground, she’d laughed and said, loud enough for the whole training field to hear, “Oh, Loki, are you all right? Did a mean nasty twig knock you over? See, if you were a real warrior, and not a pitiful failure, you could have just stepped over it.” 

I’d barricaded myself in my room after dinner for the next month, drilling blocks and pivots and strikes on mounds of pillows and overturned chairs, berating myself fiercely each time I stumbled and fell on the shaky piles. By the time we faced each other again, I’d improved so much even my brother was impressed. It didn’t help. When I stayed upright, she smacked me behind the knees so hard my feet flew out from under me and I landed once again in the dirt. At some unseen signal, the Idiots/Warriors Three (the name depended on who you asked) bounded over and began pounding me mercilessly under the guise of helping me up. 

Somehow, Heimdall, the all-seeing, who was supposed to be ensuring that nothing of this sort happened, failed to notice anything. Of course, I _had_ set a large wolf loose in the Observatory the day before, and it _had_ eaten his favorite shirt before rampaging around the Bifrost and generally causing mayhem. Then I’d successfully blamed the Idiots Three for the rogue canine, which might have contributed to both the beating and the lack of supervision. 

My eyes snapped open as footsteps rang out along the passage. As I’d hoped, Jane was bringing me lunch. She paused uncertainly at the door and I rose, inclining my head politely. “Thor told me to put my hand on the scanner. That opens the door?” I nodded. She shifted the tray she held to one hip and set her palm on the seal. The door hissed softly open and she stepped inside, setting the tray on the floor. “Oh, Loki, you can’t eat in that, can you,” she murmured. “Thor never told me how to get that thing off your face.” I shrugged, stepping forwards and catching her hands. Awkwardly, I manuvered her fingers to the places they needed to go and indicated for her to press. She did, and the gag shrank back into a small chunk of metal. I spat it into my palm, grimacing, then tossed it onto the floor. “Oh, that’s better. Did you bring anything for me to drink?” 

She blinked, then nodded. “Yes. I brought you tea. Are you all right?” 

I smiled. “Of course I am. Now, about that tea? I’m parched.” She poured me a cup and I cradled it in both hands, taking a long, slow sip. As the sharp tastes of iron faded, I leaned back into the wall, one corner of my mouth twitching upwards. “Right. Food?” She gestured to the tray. I knelt, carefully setting the cup beside me, and pulled the platter towards me. A bowl of soup sat next to a spoon and a few pieces of bread. I decided that I could eat that with my hands bound and gently lifted the spoon, sliding down until my chest rested on the floor, lower legs crossed above me. Balancing on one elbow, I scooped a bit of liquid up and tried to get it to my mouth. Jane slid the tray away just in time. I toppled onto my side, grunting in pain. 

After I’d sat up again, we shared a resigned glance. “I think I’ll have to feed you,” she said calmly. I was too hungry to protest. We sat next to each other, both bent over the bowl as she spooned soup into my mouth. At last the dish was empty and she looked at the bread. “That I think you can handle.” 

I picked a piece up in both hands and gnawed on it for a minute, trying to soften the crust. Eventually, a chunk broke off and I chewed and swallowed ravenously. “What’s going on upstairs? Do they have a time frame for an attack? Am I staying here indefinitely or will I be moved back into my old cell? What-” 

“Whoa! Two or three questions at a time, all right?” I shrugged. I had been speaking quickly. As she began to answer the questions, I went back to the bread. “Heimdall and Sif have been planning a defensive strategy, I think. They’ve been shut up in that map room-” 

“The War Chamber,” I supplied helpfully. 

“Whatever. They’ve been closeted in there for over an hour. The Warriors Three have been assembling guards for the dun- for down here, and for a few other places as well.” 

“Call it what it is. They’ve been assembling guards for the dungeon. What else? What of the attack timeline?” 

“I don’t know. Sometime tomorrow, I believe. And nobody has said anything about you.” I nodded thoughtfully, reaching for the second slice of bread and dunking it in the cup. It was soft enough to eat that way, and I gulped it down, taking a deep swallow of tea.

I stood as the welcome warmth flooded through me, smiling gently at Jane. “If you’ll top me up, that should be all. Well, you may want to take that back to Sif or Thor.” I nudged the gag with the toe of my boot. 

She filled my cup and wrinkled her nose. “Are you sure that shouldn’t go in the trash?” 

I chuckled. “Wouldn’t that be nice. No, it gets cleaned and can then be reused. Probably on me.” 

She used a napkin to pick it up and deposit it on the tray. “I wouldn’t want that in my mouth.” 

“It isn’t pleasant, I must admit,” I said seriously, then grinned. “See you in a few hours.” 

She waved, stepped out, then looked at me hesitantly. “I feel stupid, but how-” 

“The door? Same thing you did to open it.” She nodded, clearly relieved, and sealed me in again, glancing over her shoulder as she hurried up the steps.

I sat down on the floor, taking another swallow of tea. I didn’t even honestly mind when it scalded my tongue slightly. The gag was off and I made a few horrible facial contortions in celebration. Trying to keep the muscles in the lower half of my face still for extended periods of time was far more of a challenge than I preferred. I scooted sideways until I could lean against the single solid wall of the room and finished my tea, setting the cup far away from me before curling into a ball and relaxing into the hard stone. The illusions had taken a great deal out of me, and I felt myself start to drift into unconsciousness. I didn’t care. Sleep would be wonderful.

*********

For once, I wasn’t the one dying in my dreams. I watched as a young girl, perhaps a few hundred winters old, struggled against the cuffs binding her to a wall. That would be around ten in Midgardian years, I guessed, but surely no older. Her short pink hair fell into her face as she threw herself forwards again and again, until the heavy leather had chafed her skin raw and blood trickled down her hands. Her dark skin shone in the light from a huge metal cylinder next to her. I realized that her skin was not brown or black, but a deep blue tone. Could this be the same girl from my dream last night, then? 

I stared in horror as a red-haired man strolled casually out of the shadows, a long knife in his hand, and she pressed herself away from him. He didn’t seem to care, meandering towards her and twirling the blade distractedly. She was within easy reach when he stopped and spoke. “Now, Leah, child, do your friend a favor, what?” 

The girl- Leah- spat at him in answer. “My name,” she growled, “is not Leah. I am Ezzy of the Falcons, and you will _let me go._ ” Even I felt the power of the last three words. My mind clouded with the desire to release her and help her to safety. 

The man was unaffected. “Izzy? What sort of name is Izzy? And beyond that, my dear Leah, your family is dead. I killed them. The Falcons are no more. And I will let you go, just as soon as you do me one tiny favor.” 

“Why should I believe you, you creep? I won’t!” she hissed. 

The man’s hand moved so quickly I barely saw it. One instant a picture of defiance, the next the child keened in pain, blood dripping down her face. “To take out an eye properly,” the monster crooned, “one must first make two cuts across the socket, then pull the actual eyeball out. How valuable will you be, my beautiful Miss Falcon, with only one eye? You have two more chances. One more slice for one wrong answer, then anger me again and I will be forced to leave you half blind. Yet I am not unreasonable. I’ll go away just as soon as you give me a little bit of power. I don’t want much. Why pay such a steep price for a paltry act of stubbornness?” 

I couldn’t pull my gaze from the nightmarish scene before me. Once more the girl- Ezzy, she’d said? Not quite Izzy, at any rate- refused, one more the knife blade flashed wickedly, and once more she fell to her knees, a miserable whimper escaping her. I admired her pride and courage, even as I recoiled from the idea of losing an eye to avoid using magic. She was pale from shock, her skin the color of a cloudy sky, her hair matted crimson on her cheek, yet she forced herself upright immediately, back rigidly straight. “Kill me, if you want. But I will not serve you in any way!” she shrieked, trembling with the effort of staying on her feet. 

He tilted his head slightly. “All right then,” he shrugged, placing a hand on her face. “Be that way.” His fingers clawed into her bloody eye socket, and she finally began to scream, louder and louder until the room rang with her agony. The scene faded to black and, as though she were beside me, I heard her voice whisper, _Please, help me…._


	9. Of Puppies and Overly Creative Mortals

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi. Yeah, I'm still here and alive. Sorry about the wait. I decided to scrap most of what I'd written for this chapter and redo it, so I had to send it back to my amazing, long-suffering beta wylanvansunshine. Add to that the bit where everyone I know grew a life in the last week, so we're actually doing things again. This is just a really long list of excuses, isn't it? Anyway, next chapter will be posted hopefully around next Wednesday, but it could be longer. My family's going off screens for a week and I have some changes I want to make. Until then, enjoy reading!

Ev came in first in the final exams. I’m so proud. She stands in the dining room, her face alight, holding the report in front of her so we can all see it, and I jump out of my chair and start dancing on the spot. “I knew you would do it! Hah! What did Master Fen-Jo say to that? Some little low-class winning the top seat! Yeah!” 

Father picks me up and deposits me in my seat. “Karma-Azrel, it’s suppertime. Stop acting like a hooligan and be respectful of the Masters at the school. They are learned men.” 

Ev drops into her chair next to me and whispers, “I thought he would choke when he called my name. Just shows those top-class purebreds that status isn’t everything, is it? I beat Obnyr too. He failed so badly last year that he had to try again, and boy was he mad when I kicked his ass.” 

I giggle and Mother glares at us. “I’ll tell you later,” my sister murmurs before sitting prim and proper as though she hasn’t just broken almost every one of Mother’s rules by cussing. I try to emulate her and Father, mollified, ladles out bowls of stew.

*********************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************

My eyes drifted open and I stared at the far corner of the cell, the child’s last words ringing in my ears. _It was a dream, Loki, that’s all. There is no little pink-haired girl with blue skin, and even if there was, who would do that to her?_ I told myself fiercely, shaking my head. I got up and peered out the transparent wall, trying to catch a glimpse of the door to the outside. Had Heimdall and Sif hit upon a plan of defense without me? What was Thor doing? Did he have my location in front of him, just in case? He might, however impenetrable these cells. I was said to be the sly, mischevious one, after all. 

I laughed suddenly, remembering a dull Freyday when we were young. The Allfather had locked us in the library because we were snapping at each other, and told us that dinner would be waiting when we figured out how to escape. Together. Thor had started pounding the doors with his fist, howling, “How are we supposed to get out? We’ll die here!” 

I’d turned to him, irritated. “Try using your head, you great oaf.” I went back to glancing through a book on Midgardian breaking and entering, but within ten seconds an impact rattled the room. Thor was lying semiconscious on the floor, one hand on his skull, moaning. He’d tried to use his head to bash through the solid wood. “Not what I meant,” I muttered, then hurried over to him, a brilliant idea forming. “Help!” I called through the keyhole. “Help! Thor has a concussion, and he needs medical treatment. Help!” I continued shouting until my throat was dry and Thor had stopped twitching. I paused for a second, then added, “Actually, you don’t need to get help anymore. I think he’s dead.” There was complete silence for a few moments, then boots began rushing in every direction and soon my father flung open the door. 

“Where is he?” Odin yelped, then spotted the lump of unconscious moron on the floor and scooped him up. I left with them, trying desperately to keep the smile off my face. My mother had given me an odd glance as we’d come by and pulled me away. 

“For your information, Thor slammed his head into that door of his own volition. I had nothing to do with it,” I told her serenely. 

She raised her eyes to the heavens. “I believe that the first sentence is technically true. You should stop using the second.”

I smiled and stretched my bound arms above my head, rolling my shoulders. Rest and food had restored me greatly. The tea at my feet was still lukewarm and I finished it quickly. In the chill air down here, it wouldn’t retain its heat much longer. I shivered slightly and began bouncing from foot to foot to warm myself. I longed to know anything more about events. When would the guards arrive? Were they coming into the dungeon itself, down to me, or would they be stationed at the entrances? What was I supposed to do during the attack? _You know the answer to that question, Loki_ , Heimdall’s voice whispered in my head. _You’re going to sit quietly in the corner of your cell until the threat has been subdued. After that, you still get to sit quietly in the corner of your cell for an unspecified length of time. Won’t it be fun?_ I forced myself to turn away from the staircase and glared at the opposite wall. The network of runes shimmered faintly gold around the edges, a reminder of the burning power it contained. I counted my steps as I walked to the back of the cell, then along the side. Five paces by nine. I did it again to make sure. I was trapped in a shiny box five paces by nine paces and I could not get out. Could not get out. Could not… could not… trapped! I moved to the center of the room, back to the door, and breathed slowly, deliberately. Panicking would get me nowhere. 

My earlier calm was gone. I sat on the cold stone and closed my eyes, but they shot open again immediately. I brought a hand up to my face and the other one followed close behind, the chain supporting it. At least Sif hadn’t returned with her favorite little bit of metal. That was one good thing at least. I flopped dramatically onto my back, then came upright at once. The floor was freezing on my upper body. I curled into a ball and uncurled again, rising to pace five steps one way, nine the other, over and over and over again, as though I could change the size of the cell by wearing ruts in the perimeter. I found the cup and tossed into the air, leaning sideways to catch it, my aimless wandering temporarily paused. What use was I down here? Why didn’t anyone understand how important I was to the creation of any plan? I was genuinely trying to be helpful for once in my life and they locked me away. _Fine,_ I thought bitterly. _I’ll stop being the good child. If they want to treat me like a monster, I’ll be a monster. Why not?_ Even as I tossed my head, the memory of Heimdall’s piercing gold gaze and Sif’s attack in the garden and my brother’s icy fury and my mother’s resignation and the terror in my chest as I stood before the throne in chains silenced me. I had no chance of escape but to try to ingratiate myself with anyone who was near me. And I not only hated that idea, I knew it would fail.

 _So you’re stuck. Grand. Now what are you going to do?_ I wondered, and came up with nothing. I realized I was actually twitching and forced myself to hold still. Since I’d sent a giant magical beacon up earlier, I figured Thor wouldn’t have any good reason to stop me using a little bit of magic. I set the cup in front of me and stared at it, turning the dull tan clay a vibrant shade of blue, then green, then on to yellow and orange. Soon it didn’t resemble a drinking vessel so much as a child’s pinwheel toy, all the colors of the Bifrost spinning around and over it. I laughed softly, speeding the display up and slowing it down at random, enjoying the patterns and tones, then began tossing the cup in the air and catching it again, the psychedelic swirls nearly causing me to miss several times. A sharp knock on the column behind me broke my concentration and the cup reverted to its original brown and smashed on the floor. My brother stood there, glaring at me and the shattered bits of pottery. I tilted my head, still smiling. “Come on in, won’t you? I’ll clean up the mess in a second.”

He didn’t move, his expression accusing. “Explain.” 

“You startled me and I dropped the cup.” I shrugged. 

“No, explain why, despite all the warnings, you were still using magic,” he sighed. “You knew better. Are you trying to endanger everyone?” 

“Were you standing next to me when I summoned those ships this morning? Because compared to that, playing with a cup is nothing. I was bored, Thor. I have been sitting here with nothing to do for hours.” 

He leaned in until his golden hair swung dangerously close to the barrier. “First you tried to run away, now you’re ‘playing’ with illusions. What’s next, Loki?” 

I shook my head, turning my back to him. “Give me a book if you don’t want me using magic next time. I did nothing wrong.” His voice reminded me of the whisper of steel on silk when he spoke, not immediately dangerous, but with a distinct undercurrent of violence. 

“Turn around and look at me.” I didn’t move. He slammed his fist on the column so hard the cell rattled faintly. “I said look at me!” I sat down facing the wall, visibly ignoring him, and forced myself not to flinch as the door slid open. 

“Make yourself comfortable.” 

He didn’t respond for a few moments, but then he let out an unhappy little moaning sound. “Why do you have to make everything so hard? You run off. Why? Why did you do that, Loki? Sif is… I can’t tell her to stay off you forever. Please, Loki. Why?”

I twisted around to look at him, but he had buried his face in his hands and was sitting curled on the ledge. I was suddenly, irrationally angry. How dare he pretend to suffer like this? “I don’t quite know what happened. Heimdall went to cuff me and I told him to stop. He did it anyway and then he grabbed my arm and I just lost it. I ran anywhere I could. I didn’t end up going far and it didn’t take you long to find me. You now have my _confession_.” I poured every ounce of venom into the word that I could and was rewarded when his shoulders slumped slightly.

Thor stared at me for a second, then stood with a heavy sigh. “Get up.” I complied, muttering to myself. 

I saw the glint of metal in his palm and managed to say “Oh, n-” before he shoved the gag into my mouth. 

“I’m sorry about that,” he murmured, just loud enough for me to hear, before addressing me in a more audible manner. “I should warn you that if you try to run away again, I’m supposed to put you back on a leash. So please don’t, brother. Please?” I nodded, eyes on the floor, but glanced up in time to see him drop his head in what seemed to be defeat. “Move it then.” 

We didn’t go back to the War Chamber. I had no idea where else Thor might take me, and I was curious and a bit excited. What plans might he be willing to share? I was so distracted I nearly walked past him when he turned off the main corridor and down a small, well-worn flight of steps. As I caught up with him, I realized that we were walking to the training fields, the huge expanses of sand that Asgard’s warriors drilled on every day. My interest was piqued further, although a hint of apprehension entered my head. I wasn’t at my best with most weapons. Surely he didn’t want to hand me a battleaxe and send me off to fight Volstagg? That was simply ridiculous. 

I blinked at the bright sunlight as we entered the sandy pit. Although they were below ground level, the fields were open to the sky. I tipped my face up, enjoying the heat. Down here the air was still, but a light breeze blew above us; I could see leaves waving gently. The five large, circular arenas were empty, and I shook my head slightly. There were always people here, and the silence was unnatural. The sand was still covered in footprints as we headed across it towards an armory shed. I turned to check on my brother, who seemed intent on reaching the small building as fast as possible. I extended my stride to match his pace. _Really, Thor? What is so important about that shed?_ I wondered. The answer was soon apparent. Jane sat in the shade behind the building in a rare patch of untrampled grass, a book in her lap. She rose as we came over, smiling at Thor. Her expression darkened as she saw me. “What did you do now, Loki?” she sighed. “Honestly, are you truly incapable of keeping your smart comments to yourself?” I gave her an injured look. If my comments were intelligent, why shouldn’t they be shared? And beyond that, I hadn’t actually said anything irritating that I was aware of. I calculated my insults very carefully, and didn’t use them randomly. I therefore was sure I hadn’t said anything wrong.

“Loki was using illusions again. On a cup that was somehow left in his cell. Despite the fact that I’ve told him a thousand times not to try any tricks, he keeps right on flouting rules.” I very nearly rolled my eyes. Of course I broke the rules. Nothing interesting ever happened when I followed them. He also hadn’t told me I couldn’t work illusions. I had a perfectly good alibi, if anyone ever let me use it. 

Jane sent me a glare of disgust. “So you were being stupid. I don’t know what to say. I mean, are you usually an idiot? I thought you were supposed to be clever!” I wanted to tell her that I had been so amazingly bored that I had tried to entertain myself in any way possible. Was she not doing the same thing by reading when we arrived? But instead, I had to settle for fixing my gaze at a point well above her head and ignoring her completely.

Thor shook his head. “He told me he was bored. That was it, just bored and therefore endangering us all.” I tossed my head, shaking my hair back over my shoulders, then looked at the pair of them. They glared at me suspiciously. _You’re annoyed that I wanted my hair out of the way. Really? Well, you do you,_ I thought, then lifted Jane’s book from its seat on the grass, carefully opening it. 

Thor tugged it from my grasp, shaking his head slightly, then turned to Jane again. “Right. One Loki, in front of you. What did you want him for?” So this had been Jane’s idea. I listened carefully. Why had she wanted me out here? 

She fiddled with her fingers and wouldn’t quite meet his gaze. “Did I ever tell you I had puppies growing up?”

“Puppies? No, but what do your pets have to do with Loki?”

“Well, I was just…you know, they need a lot of exercise, puppies, and I just sort of thought that…you know, that, like, you couldn’t keep them in a kennel all day and- yeah.”

Thor looked even more bewildered than he had the first time I’d shapeshifted. “I’m afraid I don’t know. Why are we talking about puppies again?”

Jane’s face was a fascinating shade of pink. Asgardians blushed, sure, but this was rather beyond that. “Loki just kind of seems like- oh, I don’t know, like he’s kind of, you know, that sort of thing.”

My brother and I shared an incredulous glance. “Jane, my heart, you’re babbling,” he said gently. “What sort of thing is Loki?”

An extremely handsome and devastatingly intelligent one, of course, I reponded mentally. 

“Heezalilikeapuppyaneeneezalilesserssizeiguess,” she blurted. 

Thor shook his head at the absolutely incomprehensible string of syllables. “And I thought Stark spoke quickly. Could you repeat that at a speed that makes your words intelligible, please?”

She blushed even harder and addressed the ground. “He’s a little like a puppy- he’s always trying to get attention and all that- so I thought that he might, you know-”

“I don’t know, so please stop interrupting yourself,” Thor sighed.

“Sorry. I thought that it would be good for him to get outside. On- on Midgard there are places called dog parks where people take their dogs to just run around and burn off energy. It’s one of the few places where the dog can be off-leash, no matter how crazy it is, and I just thought that Loki needed something like that and this was the closest place I’ve found.” She scuffed the sand with her toe.

“You’re saying that Loki needs to be crazy.”

“No! I’m saying that he needs to not have someone on top of him all the time. Between you and Sif and Heimdall, it’s like you expect him to be a robot. You can’t keep a puppy in a cage for very long before you have a problem, and if you keep trying to clamp down on Loki, you’ll have a problem there too.”

“He’s already tried pulling magic tricks today. After he tried to run away. And that was after he tried to destroy a table. I think we’ve reached the problems. How exactly do you think that you can fix that?”

She smiled almost shyly and stretched a hand to my face. I realized what she was doing and held perfectly still. Her questing fingers found the spots I’d showed her earlier and, with a momentary pressure, the gag fell away from my mouth and into her palm, shrinking into an innocuous rectangle. I yawned hugely as she dropped it into her pocket, then smiled lazily, one eye drifting closed briefly. “Ah, much better. Now really, Thor, why did you find that necessary? I barely even spoke to you.” 

He ignored me and addressed himself next to Jane. “Congratulations? We now have a ‘puppy’-” 

“I am not a puppy,” I interjected, but he paid no attention. 

“-that is really a highly powerful magical being with an unending capacity for chaos. How is this a good plan again?” 

“I didn’t realize you thought so highly of me, brother,” I murmured. 

Jane ignored both of us and caught my wrist, pulling it towards her and tugging on the cuff. “Thor, how does this come off?” 

“What are you planning?” he asked again. She shot him a look I recognized. Mischief had a new devotee today. 

“I thought I could teach Loki how to play fetch,” she said hesitantly. 

I stepped back, though my arm remained in her grasp. “I’m not a puppy. Puppies play fetch. I don’t.” She shrugged, still fiddling with the release mechanism. 

Thor frowned. “Why would Loki even fetch?”

“Exactly! You’re the puppy, not me.”

“I’m not a puppy.”

“Right. Big droopy blue eyes, and you can’t forget the ‘Hey Loki!’” I panted like a dog for a few seconds before turning to face him. “Hey Jane! Pet me, pet me, pet me, and then play with me and rub my tummy?” Jane unsuccessfully tried to stifle a snort of laughter as I batted my eyelashes at her.

“I do not!”

“Yes, you do. Remember that one time I turned you into a dog?”

“That wasn’t funny!”

“What are you talking about? It was hilarious! Nobody suspected a thing!”

“Sif figured it out.”

“No she didn’t. I turned you back and she saw it. Remember how all the hunt staff was cooing over you? You looked so happy, brother. I think you missed your real calling.”

“No, I think you missed yours. As a cheap street performer!”

I realized that I might have irritated him just a little bit. Oh well.

“Oh my dear lord, do you two stand around all day bickering? Shut up and do something useful!”

“I’ll find a ball,” Thor volunteered, then turned and ran.

“Oh, sure, brave warrior, leave _me_ with the angry mortal,” I called after him, but he didn’t seem to hear. Jane poked me in the stomach.

“Be nice.”

She was admittedly more persistent than I’d expected. She had the chains off in only a few more minutes as Thor went in search of a suitable object. I crossed my arms and leaned against the wall. “I am not playing fetch. It’s undignified.” 

She shook her head. “Yes, you are. Or you can go right back to your cell.” 

“Fine. I’ll just go back then. I won’t play fetch. I am not chasing a ball all over the fields. I’m not a dog.” 

She clearly caught sight of someone behind me and waved. “Hey, Sif!” I groaned inwardly. If Sif was involved, this was going nowhere good. “Come help me convince Loki to play fetch!” 

“Fetch?” Sif called back. “He’s not a dog!” 

“Thank you!” I replied. 

“On second thought, that sounds really funny,” Sif sniggered, striding towards me. “But what precisely is he doing out-” 

“I let him out,” Jane cut her off quickly. 

Between them, they chivvied me out into the center of the field. “I’m not playing fetch,” I repeated. 

Sif’s eyes lit up and she pulled a long strip of leather from her pocket. “Maybe you aren’t, but I am,” she cackled, tying the cord loosely around my neck. I picked gently at the knot with one hand, rolling my eyes. When Thor threw a ball across the sand, she ran after it and I had no choice but to follow. She dove to catch the ball and handed it to me. “Throw it back.” I shrugged and tossed it in a random direction. It hit the ground a few meters away. “You’re really bad at this,” she commented. 

I smirked and dropped the end of the string that was supposed to be around my neck. “I’m better than you think.” I darted out of arm’s reach, grinning mischeviously. “Catch me if you can,” I taunted and took off. 

Yes, I usually avoided running, and yes, it was a stupid move, but I laughed as she cursed and lunged after me. Within a few minutes, all three of them were chasing me in a pack. I twisted and dodged, allowing them to come tantalizingly close before ducking away. “This is a very backwards game of tag,” Jane yelled, swiping at my sleeve. 

“What’s tag?” Sif called back as I threw myself sideways under her outstretched arm, rolling to my feet and running back the way she’d come. 

“One… person… tries to… catch… the others,” Jane panted. 

“Loki!” my brother called. “Stop now and no harm will come to you.” 

“I thought I was supposed to be running around,” I retorted. “And this is actually quite fun!” 

I turned sharply and collided with Heimdall, who was clearly trying to process the scene. 

“Get him!” Thor yelped, but I was already ten meters gone. 

My breath was ragged now and I knew it would be wiser to stop, but I was too involved in the sheer exhilaration of the chase. Unfortunately, my foot caught on an abandoned spear shaft and I tripped. I rolled forwards and came up running, but the delay had given Heimdall a chance. He seized my arm with one massive hand and pulled me back. “I have him.” 

Thor jogged over and shook his finger at me. “Bad Loki. Fetch is a game where you fetch the ball, not where Heimdall has to fetch you.” 

I grinned at him, pushing a stray curl out of my face. “Good to know. Let’s try again, shall we?” I scooped up the ball at my feet and threw it at him. It hit him square on the nose and I couldn’t help but laugh. “Nice catch, brother.” 

Sif came over, grimacing slightly. “Sorry to break up the comedy routine, but the guards will be back any moment. It’s time.” I sighed. At least I’d had a chance to get outside, even if only for a few minutes. Jane had been right after all. I held my free hand out to my brother while he closed the cuff around it, then as Heimdall released me, let him chain the second one. As we walked back inside the palace, a cloud covered the sun and plunged us into shadow.

The hallways were dim after the bright light outside, and I stumbled a few times on my way up the stairs. Each time, Thor set a hand on my shoulder to stabilize me, then patted me gently before dropping it again. The gesture confused me. I had just spent the last half-hour doing exactly the thing he’d been telling me not to, and now he was… comforting me… for tripping on the stairs? The logic of this situation defied me. We emerged onto the wide corridor and I turned to the right, towards the entrance to the dungeons. I was sandy and sweaty and generally disgusting, but convincing my brother to let me take a second shower would be work, and I was tired. Sif stopped me with a hand and I glanced at her quizzically. It wasn’t she who spoke, but Heimdall. “Left.” 

I turned to look at him. “Go left?” He nodded. I shrugged philosophically and turned left instead. “If you don’t mind my asking, where are we going?” It was such a relief to hear my own voice; a relief to have a voice at all. 

“Your room. You get fifteen minutes,” the giant replied. 

I blinked, absolutely befuddled. “What am I supposed to be doing in fifteen minutes in my room?” 

Thor sniffed. “I may not be the freshest myself, but there’s a distinct odor hanging about you right now, brother.”  
“Are you insulting my personal hygiene?” I snapped, affronted. 

“Yes,” Sif replied cheerfully. I had no good response to that, so I stayed quiet. Apparently taking a shower wasn’t going to be a challenge to negotiate. I opened one of the oak doors and paused. 

“Ah, Thor, could you...” I trailed off. He nodded and unlocked the cuffs. 

“Fifteen minutes. Any longer and-” 

“And I get to come and haul you out!” Sif finished, grinning. I gave her a worried look and slipped inside. 

My steps were silent on the carpet as I ran to the closet, selecting fresh clothes quickly. Warmer shirt, same black trousers, and I’d figure out the rest later. I pinned the toe of the tracker-held shoe under the leg of the bed and yanked upward as hard as I could. Thankfully, my foot just slid out. Within a minute I was under the water, rinsing the dirt out of my curls and off my body. I didn’t pause to enjoy the heat, but shut the taps off quickly, drying and dressing. I guessed it had been ten minutes by the time I emerged, groomed and garbed appropriately. I slipped on one shoe and ran an eye along the row of garments. The dark green top I was in was warm enough and long enough I wouldn’t need a tunic. I pulled a simple sleeveless black leather coat from the back and shrugged it on. It was plainer than what I usually wore, though cut the same as all the other, more formal tabards I owned. I couldn’t remember asking to have it made. Perhaps it had gotten into my closet during one of Mother’s phases when I was younger. It had a bit of dust on the front that I brushed off, but otherwise it would do fine. The knee-length sides were slit to allow easy movement, not that I expected to need it. I grabbed the other boot and, for the second time that day, began feeding it under the tracker. It wasn’t quite settled by the time Sif walked in. “Thirty more seconds to get this shoe on all the way,” I told her calmly. “You can stay if you want.” For once true to my word, I didn’t take long to get my foot in the rest of the way. I stood up and approached her cautiously, but she just motioned out the door. I obeyed, striding out to where Thor and Jane waited. 

“I’ve never seen that outfit before,” Thor noted. 

I smiled briefly. “Neither have I. The coat came from the depths of the wardrobe, and I’ve never really worn this shirt much. It’s just not quite my usual style. Still, change isn’t necessarily a bad thing.” 

I began walking slowly back to the right, along the slight curve of the hall, but stopped after a few steps when nobody followed me. “Are we going, or did you make me take an irritatingly fast shower for nothing?” 

I turned just as Thor shrugged. “I can lock you back up if you want.” 

“Did you have a different plan?” 

He stared at the floor, long strands of golden hair clinging to his face, then blew one off his nose. “No,” he admitted. “Come on.” As cold air wafted over us, I was glad for the new shirt. I’d never liked the cross-over design at the neck much, but it was soft, comfortable and, most importantly, warm. I wondered why the temperature of the dungeons was so noticeably different from the rest of the palace. The fact that they were underground might play a part, but the excessive chill seemed rather pointless. 

I was distracted enough by this train of thought that I nearly walked right into Sif. She shoved me into the nearest wall, growling. I hissed and forced myself upright as quickly as possible without touching the rune-window I’d fallen into. For an escape deterrent, those things were effective. Touching one hurt. A lot. And the longer the contact, the worse the burn. I checked my sleeve and rubbed at the faint scorch marks on the shoulder. The fabric wasn’t too damaged; I couldn’t see or feel any holes. We turned down the passage I was sadly familiar with, to the same third cell on the left-hand side. I refused to slump even slightly as Thor set his palm gently on the scanner and watched the door slide open. I was so tired of this. So tired.

Once I stepped inside, I turned to my brother, a sarcastic smile at the corner of my mouth. “Every time I come down here, I get a fan club. And every time I leave, there’s only one or perhaps two people to escort me. Why the difference, do you think?” I leaned forwards, hands clasped behind me. “Surely you don’t believe I’ll put up a fight?” Wisely, he said nothing, only raised his hand again and allowed the golden barrier to separate us. I straightened. “Very well. You may leave, if you wish. I seem to be making you uncomfortable again, and I know how you hate that.” 

“No magic. Or else.” 

I’d goaded him into speech after all, and into an insubstantial threat, too. He led the others away from me, shooting an uneasy glance over his shoulder. As they rounded the corner, I could see Sif’s dark ponytail tossing as she spoke to Thor. I’d irritated her, presumably with my condescension. I could almost hear her thoughts of _How dare he! He is a prisoner, not a fancy lord!_ All to the better. I sighed. I would pay for that little bit of fun, but it was worth it. It wasn’t as though they’d trust me anyway, and unnerving people was one of the few talents I could use here. I sat on the ledge by the window, back to the stairs, stretching out my legs. Really, why was it so cold down here? 

I drummed my fingers on my thigh. I’d put myself in power here quite neatly, and I couldn’t- wouldn’t- break that by asking for so much as a book. Besides, I rather thought Jane might bring me a diversion anyway. She didn’t appear to like conflict, and I could use that. In fact, if I acted polite and submissive enough, provided she was alone, I could probably get a blanket or two as well and sow major confusion in the bargain. If my supposed allies were divided over my scheming, it would prove useful. I saw it clearly. Jane on one side, arguing that I was scared and trying to hide it. Sif on the other, stating that I was planning something diabolical. Heimdall would go with Sif. But Thor would be caught in the middle, and in the ensuing chaos, I could make my move. Not that I had one, but it was a comforting thought.


	10. God of Mischief, God of Smart-Alecks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again! I am back and delighted to be here! I hope you're all doing well as the world starts to open again. This is a bit of a short update, but I'm hoping to have another one soon. Enjoy reading!

_I bounce on Everett’s bed excitedly. The name still feels wrong, but I’m trying to use it even in my thoughts. “Tell me more! What did Obnyr say when saw how damn good you kicked his ass?”_

_“Ezzy! Don’t swear!”_

_I stick my chin out stubbornly and glare at her. “You do.”_

_She glances away. “Well, yes, but the point is…I mean to say, you’re nine and…. Okay, just don’t swear if Mother or Father could hear. It’s our secret. They don’t even know I do it.”_

_I shrug. “Okay.”_

_“Good. Guess what else?”_

_I gasp and lean closer. “What? What?”_

_“I’m going straight into the army.”_

_I squeal in glee at the news until Ev claps a hand over my mouth. “Ssh! Not so much noise.”_

_“When’s your blade ceremony?” I ask. My sister, having her very own blade ceremony, her very own chance to personally declare loyalty to the Queen and receive a fantastic weapon from Her Majesty’s hands! The thought is just too exciting. “When? When?” I’m bouncing again, so hard the springs squeak. She won’t quite meet my eyes._

_“I’m not sure.”_

_“You are having one, right?”_

_“Oh, yes,” she assures me._

_“Aren’t you excited? You get to meet the Queen! I’m sure you’ll be so brave. I’ll be right there cheering you on!”_

_She pats my head distractedly. “Of course you will. And I couldn’t be more delighted!” But something in her tone feels forced. Something’s not quite right._

*************************************************************************************************************************

Perhaps throwing my intentions and loyalties into doubt wasn’t a wonderful idea if I planned to escape. But then again, I didn’t. The tracker saw to that. If I couldn’t disappear off the map, why should I go to all the work of trying to hide? I sighed and relaxed into the stone. I would be sitting here for a while. I might as well be comfortable. The runes glowed ominously, but I ignored them. Provided I didn’t fall asleep and roll into the window, it wasn’t as though they could hurt me. I stared blankly at the opposite wall, a sense of calm pervading me. It was odd how now, of all times, on the eve of an attack, while I was locked away, I finally achieved the meditative state needed for higher magic. I could probably talk to Mother like this, and I would have if Thor’s warning hadn’t been so clear. I wasn’t suicidal; I was content with living, if not my current situation, and had no desire to anger Sif and Heimdall any more tonight. My eyes began to close and I fought them open again. I wanted to sleep through the night. 

I heard footsteps and stood up, turning for a better look. It wasn’t Jane bringing a meal; it was Sif, who clearly would rather throw the bowl in my face than let me eat it. I kept a somber demeanor through great effort of will and stayed well back as she came in. No chance of wheedling a blanket out of her. Oh, well. She put the tray on the floor, clearly forcing herself to stay calm, and gave me a death glare so powerful I was surprised I survived intact. “I’m supposed to ask if you need anything else,” she growled through gritted teeth. I was sorely tempted to say, _Go right ahead and ask then_ , but decided against it. 

“Would you be so good as to bring a blanket? There should be several down here in my old cell.” Hang pride and advantage, I was not going to spend another night shaking with cold on a hard stone floor. Besides, she’d asked if I needed anything.

Sif turned slowly and left, slapping her hand on the seal. I frowned. She would damage the delicate pad if she kept that up. I slid my dinner away from the entrance and sat down next to it. A single small dish of what might have been porridge sat forlornly on the tray and I couldn’t suppress a giggle at the sight. It wasn’t funny. It certainly wasn’t hilarious. Yet I was laughing so hard that I was choking and wheezing and clutching the ledge for support. When the dark-haired warrior returned, blanket over one arm, she froze and stared at me fearfully for a few seconds before unlocking the barrier, dropping the cloth inside and closing it again quickly. I swallowed the last few bubbles of amusement and shook out the blanket. It was the same one I’d used as a cushion yesterday, and I wrapped it around me, then lifted the bowl onto my lap. A clumsy wooden spoon fell off the tray. I picked it up, stirring the unappetizing pale substance. 

I made a face at the food but took a bite anyway. It really was porridge, albeit cold and badly made. Honestly, even my nonexistent culinary skills could guide me through making a decent pot of this stuff. The steps were so easy Fandral could probably do it, and I wasn’t sure he could tell a knife from a spearhead most of the time. Boil water, add oats and a pinch of salt, stir continuously until smooth, thickened, and hot, which took maybe five minutes. If you were an arthritic old granny Norn. The concepts of salt and stirring were clearly beyond whoever prepared this. They also obviously didn’t comprehend the difference between thickened and congealed. I pushed the dish away from me. I had known that I would regret my bit of fun earlier, but poisoning seemed a rather low blow. 

My stomach growled as I curled farther into the blanket. I ignored it. I could deal with being hungry. Vomiting in a cell I had no way out of? Not so much. The lights had turned out and I was most of the way asleep when Hogan pounded on the column behind me. “Wake up, scum,” he snarled. I turned drowsily to face him, my left eye mostly closed. 

“What’s...” (my jaws cracked in an enormous yawn) “happening…?” 

He dropped a chair on the floor and sat down. “If I have to sit here all night and stay awake watching you, you shouldn’t get to dream away.” 

I made a noncommittal noise and shut my eyes once more. He smacked the column again. I sighed. “I’m awake.” 

The chair creaked as he settled into it and there was a brief moment of silence before he spoke again. “Hey, criminal.” 

I let my head fall against the column. “What is it now?” 

“Why didn’t you eat your dinner? Didn’t you like it? It’s just like you- disgusting!” He laughed uproariously at his own wit. 

“Hogan,” I murmured, eyes still closed, “That isn’t dinner.” 

He stopped. “It isn’t?” 

“Oh no. It’s Sif’s version of a practical joke. It was almost as funny as your comment about me. Truly hilarious.” 

He was quiet for a moment as he struggled with the concept of sarcasm. “You really think so? You’re not making fun of me?” Apparently he still didn’t get it. 

“Oh yes. Amazing comedic timing. I’m thinking you could play a buffoon in a traveling menagerie. I bet your acting skills are so brilliant nobody would even realize how smart you really are. They’d be completely taken in by your performance.” 

The conversation paused and I could almost hear the synapses firing in his brain. One. Thought. Connecting. To. The. Next. At the approximate speed of a snail stuck in molasses. “You’re insulting me,” he growled eventually. 

“Congratulations,” I drawled. “You have mastered the art of detecting sarcasm. Next trick: practice being really quiet.” 

“Why would I do that?” 

“Because if you’re very, very still and very, very silent, people will think you’re invisible. It makes defeating them in battle much easier.” 

“How do you know?” he asked skeptically. 

“Remember all those times when I seemed to appear out of nowhere? I was using that very trick.” 

“Oh,” he grunted. “Wow. Here I thought you were just doing magic.” I had obviously been using magic, but there was a definite pleasure in leading him on. I might even get some sleep out of it.

“We can start practicing now if you’d like. Useful skills for a fight tomorrow and all.” 

He shifted. “Right. So how do I start?” 

“Just don’t move, don’t talk, and don’t hit things for as long as you can. Ready? Go.” 

“… But what if you fall asleep?” 

“Two seconds? Well, everyone starts somewhere. Let’s try for three next time. Ready and go.” 

“You didn’t answer the question.” 

“One second less is not improvement. You have to really want this to make it work, Hogan. Prepare yourself now. Ready-” 

“What if you fall asleep?” 

I raised my eyebrows. “I didn’t think anyone could make backwards progress from an inability to be quiet for longer than a second. You have proven me wrong. If it satisfies you, I promise to stay awake. Okay? Ready, go.” 

He made it for a full fifteen seconds this time before belching loudly. “Better out than in. I’m going to try again.” I shook my head and struggled into a slightly more upright position. “Well, don’t let me stop you.” 

He was silent for long enough that I let myself slide back into a semiconscious state and then beyond into the welcoming darkness. A thump on the post I was using as a backrest woke me. “If you’re going to work on invisibility, you can’t hit things like that,” I said blandly. 

“You snored,’ Hogan accused. 

“Well, of course I did. I was working on feigning sleep. It’s a very advanced concept, and since you just started on these things a few minutes ago, I don’t think you’re ready for it yet. I’m sorry I forgot to tell you.” He seemed to be satisfied. At least, he wasn’t talking or attacking innocent pillars. I shifted slightly on the hard stone and let myself drift away.

I saw the girl again. What was it with this pink-haired, blue-skinned child popping up every time I dreamed? Her long hair was braided in a complicated array down her back. She was sparring with six opponents and trouncing all of them. Her amber eyes flashed as she spun, weaving her blade in and out like a tongue of the silvery flame she held in her other hand. Each man fell to the ground, either stabbed or burnt. When she stood alone in the center of the room, I realized I had to be dreaming about a different person. She was taller, older, with much longer hair. And she had two eyes. Both bored into me as she glanced up, as though she were watching my very soul. I didn’t think I had a body. I looked and didn’t find one. Yet somehow those eyes, so close in color to Heimdall’s, clearly saw me. “So that’s where you are,” she whispered. “See you soon, Trickster.” The words had the unmistakable weight of a warning and I fervently hoped that we would never meet. 

When I opened my eyes again, the lights had turned on in the passage. Hogan snored loudly from the chair next to my cell. So much for guarding me. The dish of bad porridge was near my foot and I surreptitiously kicked it farther away, then stood, stretching my aching muscles. The blanket fell from around my shoulders as I did so and I bent to pick it up and fold it. My hair fell into my eyes and I sniffed in annoyance. I had no doubt it was tangled again, but I was slowly learning to deal with that horrifying and unavoidable circumstance. Still, messy hair was a definite no. I pulled the clip out and braided it roughly. At least it wouldn’t get in the way. I used the clip to pin the short braid up on my head. The weight felt so wrong in so many ways, pulling my head back awkwardly and yanking on hair definitely unused to it. 

I had been awake for perhaps ten minutes when Hogan stirred, grumbling. At least he’d had a chair. I was thoroughly fed up with trying to sleep on stone floors. It hurt. My butt was still numb from the hours on the ground, despite the four layers of cloth protecting it. I turned back to the window as the warrior stood up, shaking the drowsiness from his body. “Breakfast,” he mumbled. “Right. Me and then the criminal. Right.” He shook himself again for good measure and then set off towards the staircase. I watched him go uneasily. Those amber eyes still seemed to be watching me. It was a dream, you moron, I told myself. Focus on something useful, yes? At least the attack Heimdall’s expecting hasn’t come yet. I did not want to be wrong there. I had a horrible suspicion that a certain creepy blue girl was going to appear out of nowhere and I would not like the outcome. I paced the room, the motion of each step repetitive and strangely soothing. I breathed in, then out, then whirled as I heard footsteps behind me. It was only Fandral, and I relaxed. His mustache was already waxed into points, although it couldn’t have been later than eight in the morning. He carried a tray that, I noted hopefully, was steaming faintly. The food might at least be hot. And edible. I was ravenous. He stopped at the door and we stared at each other for a long moment until he finally spoke. “The lady Jane prepared something for you, but I’m not supposed to let you eat it until you’ve finished last night’s meal.” _Really, Fandral? Really?_

“What is it?” I nodded at the tray. “And who told you that I can’t eat breakfast?” 

“Flat round bread things. And Thor told me that you had to eat dinner first.” I was willing to bet those ‘flat round bread things’ were pancakes. My gaze fell on the bowl of solid mush, which had formed a brownish crust overnight. The spoon stood straight up in the mixture; I suppressed a shudder at the thought of consuming it. 

“Why?” I asked, stalling to find a solution. “Why would he say that? Is there poison in that bowl because he needs to get rid of me?” 

Fandral didn’t respond beyond a supercilious smirk. _Fine then_ , I thought. _Who says this has to go the way he wants? I’m not eating that mess and it’ll be what it is._ “ You have ten seconds to start on that dinner,” he announced. “Ten, nine, ei-aiee!” He jumped back as I threw the bowl at his sneering face. A horrible singed smell filled the air as it hit the barrier, clumps of blackened oat ooze falling to the floor. 

“I am not eating that swill. Give me something better or leave. I tire of your pretenses,” I snapped. 

He made a nasty face. “You’ll be singing a different tune by this evening, when you’re so weak with hunger you can barely stand,” he retorted, but it was a poor effort. 

“Oh no I won’t,” I purred. “You see, I don’t sing.” And with that I turned my back to him and listened silently as he walked away. 

When his footsteps had receded, I curled into a ball, moaning softly in frustration. Why had I been so stupid? I would be in no position to fight anyone by this afternoon and, if I remembered correctly, two meals a day was standard in the dungeon. I wondered how long it would be before I was begging for something, absolutely anything to eat. Fandral had to have been lying. Surely Thor would never deny me food. But I couldn’t read his mind; I didn’t know.

I spread the blanket on the floor and lay down on my back, staring up at the blank white ceiling. Had it really only been three days since I’d learned about the tracking force? Only five since my trial? It felt so much longer. Each day dragged on and on and nothing ever really happened. 

Boot heels rang out on the stones of the passage and I sat up, head spinning at the sudden movement. Heimdall and Thor charged into view. While the golden giant turned to the passage, my brother ran to the cell and palmed it open. “Loki! Come here,” he whispered. I obeyed, trying not to slip in the spilled porridge. “Faster! We don’t have any time.” 

I jumped down off the dais of the cell and looked up at him, his hair glowing in the light of the barrier. “What is it? Has the attack come?” 

He nodded. “And we need to get you out of here. They’re just too much for us to-” He broke off as steps sounded beyond Heimdall. “Run!” he yelled suddenly, shoving me away. I didn’t move for a second, then fled as he lunged at me again. The last thing I heard was a scream as the floor erupted behind me.


	11. A'rim

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, I promised this would be out quickly, didn't I? It appears that I'm a dirty liar. In my defense, I'm trying to write a research paper at the same time. Anyway, I'm back with more lovely, angst-filled craziness. One minor note- those weird little sidenote things at the beginning of every chapter? They might be a little important and relevant. Just saying. Enjoy!
> 
> TWs for this chapter include confined spaces, gore, and suicidal dialogue. Please read responsibly.

_I’m racing down the hall. My knee-length, heavy masses of braids slam into my back with each stride, but I won’t slow down. It’s Ev’s blade ceremony and I’m very nearly late. The long, lacy skirt catches at my ankles and I wish for the thousandth time that I could just have worn my favorite tunic and trousers. I skid to a halt at the doors of the throne room and press an eye to the crack. I hope they haven’t started yet, but I’m too late. I watch as the Queen lifts the sword in both hands, calling out to the ancestors in a language I will never properly understand. Only royals actually study its tongue-knotting syllables. I can see my mother, her back to me, crying into my father’s shoulder. She’s so proud of my sister and I am too._

****************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************

I dashed down the corridor and into a rabbit-hole-sized tunnel I knew would bring me to the main level. A glow to my left alerted me and I threw myself sideways as a knife flew bare millimeters over my head. I turned to take a different corridor and stopped in shock. The girl stood there, pink braids nearly to her waist, blue skin glowing softly. Her amber eyes were alight with triumph as she spoke. “I meet you in the flesh at last, Loki Odinsward Laufeyson.” 

My breathing was too fast, too shallow, and I fought to control it. “Ezzy? That is your name, isn’t it?” 

She stiffened. “How- you- Kill him!” she snarled. 

I turned on my heel and went right back the way I’d come. Before I’d made it three steps, a loop of rope fell around my throat and tightened. I clawed at it as stars swam across my vision, but the pressure kept building. I could not breathe, could not breathe, and somehow my head had started spinning too. I fell to my knees because my legs wouldn’t support my weight. I fought to stay upright, lungs burning for lack of air, and then I felt a sharp pain in the back of my neck and the world went black.

There was light. I squeezed my eyes shut because it was blinding me. I hurt all over. I hurt in places I didn’t even know could hurt. I tried opening my eyes again, wincing at the pain, but kept them open until they adjusted. I sat slumped against a wall in a small metal cube, hands shackled behind me. The clip I’d put in my hair dug into the back of my head. A single bright strip illuminated the room, but the walls and floor were all reflective and the entire space seemed to glow. I pulled my legs under me and tried to stand, then discovered I was chained to the floor and fell back against the wall. At least, that was the only explanation I had for the fact that I couldn’t get my wrists more than fifteen centimeters off the ground. I wriggled into an upright position and groaned as my arms seized up in protest. _Where am I?_ I wondered. _What is going on? When will I get to eat? Who put me here? I don’t think it was Heimdall. Or my brother. Or even Sif and the Idiots Three. The palace doesn’t have cells like this._ “I don’t think I’m in Asgard anymore,” I whispered. As if on cue, the whole room began to vibrate and I realized that wherever I was, it wasn’t stationary. It was flying away.

The vibration died after fifteen minutes or so and I glanced around for a door or window. I could see none. I couldn’t even see a seam in the walls where the box had been sealed shut. How long had I been in here before I’d awakened? This cage was tiny. If I’d been able to stand up, my head would have bumped the ceiling. My palms would be flat against opposing sides if I stretched out my arms. I’d never been claustrophobic. I’d spent too much time hiding in little dark crevices for that. But this was different. This was a steel trap, I was trapped, and I couldn’t see how I could ever get out. There wasn’t even a door, for Huginn’s sake! Well, I could give up on any hope of food. 

I wanted to scream with pain and frustration, but I didn’t. I swallowed and forced myself to breathe slowly, blinking back the tears leaking down my face. I was here for a reason. Something wanted my magic. I knew that pink-haired girl had something to do with it. She couldn’t keep me here forever. If I got in, there had to be a way out. It was simple logic. At least it was warmer in here than in my cell in Asgard. Hunger and thirst were making me irrational and delirious. First weird observations on the temperature, now I thought one of the walls…was dissolving? What I’d first seen as solid metal was not solid anymore. It was shimmering and paling into nonexistence. But that couldn't be. It didn't make sense.

A man appeared in the silvery mist, ducking his head as he entered, and I recognized his gait. It was the same monster who’d ripped out that child’s eye in my dream. He approached slowly and I squared my shoulders. I wouldn’t be an easy target. As he drew ever nearer, the mist cleared and I saw that he wore a fine red coat that fell barely to his knees and simple brown pants tucked neatly into knee-high tan boots. His pale, ruddy hair curled over his shoulders and I couldn’t hold back a nod of approval. “For a monster who abducts people and shuts them in tiny boxes, you at least dress nicely.” 

He laughed, a soft, full-throated chuckle, and knelt beside me. “You must be desperate to start a conversation with a comment on my clothing choices. But you do look rather uncomfortable huddled up like that. I’ll let you go, if you’d like. I should warn you, though, you can attack me if you want, but you won’t be able to get out of here without me. You are Jotun, yes? I wonder how many days you could survive without food or water, trapped in a tiny cage, until you went mad or died.” He pushed me gently sideways and released my wrists. “Come on then, up you go.” He held out a hand, but I didn’t take it. 

“Who are you, and what do you want with me?” I asked coldly. I didn’t trust him one whit. He sounded and acted far too much like... well, like me for comfort. 

The man laughed again. “Really, let’s not get started completely on the wrong foot. Leave these stodgy, defensive, pointless questions behind and experience a new world, a better world. All you have to do is walk out of this cell with me.” 

I definitely didn’t trust him. There was no 'better world' and never would be; those promises were an excuse for torture and violence, nothing more. On the other hand, what other option did I have but to do as he said? I had heard the threat implicit in his earlier words. He would think nothing of sealing me in here and watching me slowly fall into a coma and die. I suspected he would find it entertaining, even. I pressed one hand on the wall above my head and stood on legs too shaky to support me. Without missing a beat, the man rose and slipped under my other arm to keep me up. “Shall we go then?” he chirped, and without waiting for an answer, pulled me bodily out of the cube. 

As soon as our heads cleared the edge of the low ceiling I tugged my arm away, willed my knees not to buckle, and glared at him. “I am not going any farther with a person whose name I don’t even know, especially not one whom I have watched tear out a little girl’s eyeball with his bare hands.” 

He laughed again. “So Everett was right about you. She usually is, but still. I didn’t believe her.” Then his gaze shifted to me and he bowed slightly, in a clearly formal gesture. “I am known as A’rim. If you care to be precise, it's spelled a-apostrophe-r-i-m and pronounced like the Midgardian Erin, just with an m, not an n. How are you called?” 

I frowned slightly. “I don’t think you need me to tell you that. Ask your friend Everett. She is the witch with the pink braids, is she not?” 

He tilted his head and extended his hand to the path in front of us. “This way. I suppose I’ll have to explain even names to you. Barbarians are just so woefully underinformed.” 

“I’m not a barbarian,” I growled.

“I am sorry. I didn’t mean to offend. Come, follow me.”

I walked beside him down the empty metal hallway. A’rim was strange; I couldn’t tell whether he considered me his prisoner or his new best friend. He dropped one hand on my shoulder and I stiffened, but he seemed to be touching me because he wanted the physical contact and not for any other reason. “Now, you need to realize something. A name has power. With your name is your sense of self and any competent mage can, given your name, alter that sense to take over your body. You have had some experience with this, I believe. In a… ahem, _less advanced_ society such as the one you hail from, where magical ability is rare and powerful magic rarer still, a name is less closely guarded. You’ve likely used your name to introduce yourself your entire life. I understand this.” He indicated that we should take a small side passage. “But my name, my birth name, what I think of myself as, is not A’rim, just as my friend’s is not Everett. We have both decided we like the sounds of these syllable combinations and have adopted them. I recommend you find some such collection and use it.” 

He stopped speaking as we reached a gate flanked by guards and released me, bowing to each as they did to him. The gate swung open and we entered a small pavilion much like my mother’s favorite garden at home. “A’rim?” I asked, ready to take advantage of this supposed openness. “Where are we?” 

He sat in a wrought-iron chair by a small flowering shrub and motioned for me to do the same. “We are home, in my house. Or perhaps if you meant more generally, we are currently in the vessel Cylinder, perhaps two crossings from Everett’s native planet of Tern. Does that help? And do please sit. The chairs won’t bite.” 

I sat warily. “You named a spaceship after a geometric solid. I suppose there’s a first time for everything. You still haven’t answered my question.” 

He shook his head. “I haven’t? Well then, I’ll have to remedy that. In the meantime, drinks?” He clapped his hands and I twitched slightly at the sudden noise. A little boy, so pale I could see the green veins beneath his skin, hurried towards us with a silver tray of cups and a dark flask. He set the tray on a low table, bowed, and ran off the way he’d come. A’rim smiled slightly, unstoppered the flask, and poured out two cups of a pale blue liquid. He offered one to me. I didn’t move to take it. “Must you be so hostile? And do decide on a use-name soon. This is getting awkward.” 

I leaned back in the chair and sighed. “Let’s get a few things straight. Your associate has exploded a large chunk of my home, possibly killed my brother, and then choked me and knocked me unconscious. You yourself have imprisoned me in a small box, threatened me with a slow death by starvation if I didn’t do as you wished, and are now offering me a drink, confused as to why I don’t trust you. And you still haven’t told me why I’m here.”

He sighed. “Oh dear. This isn’t going quite the way I’d hoped. You see, I need talented people. People like you.” He raised his cup in my direction, as though toasting me, and took a deep draft before continuing. “I saw some of the work you’ve done on Asgard and Earth and thought perhaps you would make a valuable addition to my team. So, I asked Everett to invite you to come with her back here. She seems to have gotten a bit carried away, and I’m sorry for that.” He placed the cup by his feet and laced his fingers, staring at me expectantly. 

I stood. “Well then, thank you for the offer of refreshment, but I’d rather not join you. In fact, if you could just get this ship turned around so I can get back to Asgard, that would be best.” 

A’rim deflated slightly. “I was worried it would come to this. You’re not going back to Asgard. You can help me willingly or you can help unwillingly, but you’re not leaving this ship. Which would you prefer?” 

I smiled coldly. “You can take me back to Asgard now or you can do it after I’ve destroyed your mind and left your home in ruins. Which do you prefer?” 

He stood. “The hard way then? If we must. I really do urge you to recon-” He broke off when I lunged at him, my fingers flexing for Oathbreaker as I summoned the blade from the cells in the palace. I hit a mental wall of ice, cold and slippery and unmoving and froze in place, fighting to control my limbs, the knife gone. A’rim closed a small silvery ring around my wrist and sighed. “I wish it didn’t have to be this way. We could have been great friends, you know.” With that he stepped past me and I crashed to the floor, paralyzed.

I stayed in the same immobile state as the guards at the gate dragged me out into the hall, rolled me down a flight of stairs, and heaved me into a dark cavern. As their footsteps receded, my entire body began to tingle slightly, then burn, and I slowly, painfully, began to move my fingers, then my arms and legs and head. The heat dissipated and I rolled over and pushed myself to hands and knees. My head throbbed where it had smacked against the stairs and I knew without touching it that a lump was forming. My lip was swollen and bleeding from the repeated impacts and I sat up, dabbing at it gently with my sleeve. I glanced around the dim chamber. There was a black shape huddled in one corner, but I was more intrigued by the fact that there wasn’t a locked door. I stood up, swaying uncertainly, and walked slowly towards the open hole. I stretched out a cautious hand, but as it passed the doorframe I was thrown backwards into the room. I slid along the floor for a meter or so before coming to a stop. I lay winded for a few seconds, then got to my feet again.

“It won’t do any good. I’ve tried. Over and over and over again. You always get thrown back.” The voice sounded horrifyingly young. I turned, ready for a new assault, then sucked in a breath as the source became apparent. A small form emerged from the shadowed corner, and as the light caught the top of the child’s head, I saw a shock of untidy pink hair. As the girl came closer, I noticed the way she’d pulled some of the mess over the right half of her face. Her blue skin looked faded and unhealthy. 

“Ezzy?” I whispered. 

She paused. “You came. Took you so long I wasn’t even sure you’d heard me. And this wasn’t exactly what I was hoping for.” And then she stepped out into the light from the doorway, tossing her hair out of the way, and I felt a wave of nausea sweep me. 

Her left eye shone in the semidarkness, pale green and just as piercing as Odin’s. I didn’t want to see the right side of her face. A bare glance at the blood, dried and fresh, on her cheek was enough. One side of her mouth quirked in a smile. “Stare if you want to. I don’t mind. If you feel the need to hurl your lunch, go do it in the back corner where I don’t have to smell it.” I forced myself to look. Despite his polite smiles, A’rim had done this, and I would need every scrap of mental strength and hatred I could get to deal with him. Where a second eye should have been was a pit of ruined flesh, scabbed and bloody and oozing pus. Threads of the optical nerve hung out of the socket, desiccated into gray strings. The lines where the knife had cut were infected and swollen. Her hair was matted with tears and more blood and pus and another substance I realized was aqueous humor, fluid from the interior of her ruptured eyeball. 

She pulled the tufts back over her face. “I know it’s not pretty. I don’t know how bad it looks and I’m not sure I want to. Hurts like hell though. Corner’s over there if you need it.” 

I found my voice. “How could anyone even do that? How in any of the Nine Realms?” She turned her back to me and I hissed in sympathy. Although she was clearly trying to hide it, her back was crisscrossed with ropy whip scars. 

“You know exactly how anyone could do that. I showed you.” She glanced back over her shoulder, suddenly grinning. “I still can’t believe you’re actually here. And that you heard me. I’m not a dreamwalker.” 

I allowed a faint smile to touch my features in response. “You scared me pretty good, I must admit. I had to convince myself it was a dream, it felt so real and visceral.”

Ezzy rolled her eye. “Then you must be terrified of everything. I called for a warrior and a planner equal to A’rim, not a twitchy little mother’s boy.” 

I sniffed. “I’m eight hundred winters older than you would be if you were Asgardian, a millennia older for most races, and I’ve seen worse than you can dream of.” 

She tapped the right side of her face lightly. “That’s the rub. I don’t see it. And have you ever watched the destruction of everything that you love at the hands of your sister, the one you trust above all others? The one who then imprisons you and sends you off to her new friend as a gift, laughing at your screams and pleas? Tell me about these worse experiences. I’d love to hear.” She sat down cross-legged facing me, dropping her chin into her hand. Her one good eye glittered in the semidarkness, fierce and unwavering.

I found myself speechless. With nothing else to do, I sat next to her. A small, strong hand closed over mine and I looked into the child’s shining eye. “Everett destroyed…” I hurried through my memory for the name of the planet. “Tern? All by herself?” 

Ezzy snorted. “Hardly. She- it’s- it doesn’t matter. It’s- it’s all-” She broke off and pulled away, shoulders shaking with suppressed sobs. 

I wanted to put an arm around her, to comfort her. But I wasn’t worthy. Hadn’t I done worse? I had tried to kill Thor. He’d returned the favor, of course, and I didn’t feel guilty over what I’d done. Not really. It had failed and I’d suffered the pain. But, somehow, this- this was different. Carefully, despite my screaming instincts, I set a cautious hand on Ezzy’s back and, when she didn’t flinch away, began to rub in small, gentle circles. “I’m going to get out of here. You can come with me. We’ll go back to Asgard. You can build again, find a new family. And we can brutally murder your sister on the way for what she's done. I don’t promise that everything will be perfect. It won’t. But Asgard is a beautiful place and I know someone who would take you under her wing without a protest.”

She turned towards me, tear tracks glittering in the faint light. “No. I don’t know how you’re going to get out of here, but if you do, I’m not coming with you.” 

“You want to stay here?” I asked. 

“Of course not. But I can’t build a new home. Mine is gone. It’s destroyed. Tell me, what’s going to happen to you when you get back?” 

I sighed. “I’ve got a nice cozy cell waiting for me, I suppose. If I’m lucky, I’ll go back to Midgard and serve out the rest of my original sentence. I’m not a hero, Ezzy, charging in to rescue everyone. I’m a criminal in the eyes of Asgardian law.” I paused, then shook my head and continued. “That still doesn’t change what happens to you. Come with me. Sif would love you. She might even let you- ah, that’s stupid.” I laughed uncomfortably. I had been about to say ‘let you come see me’ but that was the basest sentimentality. 

Ezzy stared at the floor. “You know what’s going to happen to you. You have a hope. I don’t care anymore. I’m about ready to stop fighting. I can’t live like this, Loki.” I blinked. It was the first time she’d used my name. “If you get out, and you can find a way, kill me.” Surely I hadn’t heard her right. 

“Kill you. As in, cut your throat, shoot you, lop off your head- kill you?”

She nodded. “Yes. Just end it all. Make it quick and make it clean. Maybe the Ancestors will still take me and I can help Ev somehow, or maybe they won’t and I’ll disappear into oblivion, but anything is better than this. Please, promise me that.” Her green eye glittered with the tears she wouldn’t let herself shed and I was silent, unsure of how to respond.

I couldn’t think of anything to say for a few minutes. She was a child. She wanted me to slit her throat if I got a chance to escape. I could not murder a little girl in cold blood. I wasn’t that twisted. “I’m not A’rim,” I whispered. She began to laugh silently. 

“Of course you’re not A’rim. If you were, I’d be trying to kill you. Do give me some credit, I’m only half-blind.” I bowed my head. How could she joke so casually about something this serious? Then I, too, began to laugh. This is how my mother must have felt as I brushed away her concerns at my trial. It wasn’t amusing, it was desperately, heart-wrenchingly sad and awful. But somehow, together, the child and the criminal, we laughed.


	12. Can't Escape This Now...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone, sorry for the wait. I'm still not 100% happy with this chapter, but if I keep trying to fix it I'll never actually post it. The chapter title comes from Demons by Imagine Dragons, which is one of my favorite songs, so... well, I couldn't resist. Sidenote aside, enjoy reading!
> 
> TWs include violence and gore.

_Ev will raise us to the ranks of the Fourth Circle at least, higher if she wins many battles for the clan. She’s clad in the traditional silver of a new warrior, shining against skin the color of polished lapis lazuli. Her hair flows in a glossy torrent down her back, the pink bright and popping in the mostly gold room. I brushed it out this morning just like I do every day, working scented oils through it, and I did a good job. Her robe ripples as she bows her head and turns her palms to the sky. The blade shines in the light and I hold in a gasp. It’s beautiful, delicately inlaid with silvery aspen leaves on the dark, leather-wrapped hilt and blued along the working length. The Queen sets the pommel in her right hand and Ev takes it, turning to draw the edge along her left wrist._

_Blood wells from the cut and drips to the floor, but a servant slips a cup already mostly full of wine underneath to catch the precious liquid. I look away from his short hair, cut as a punishment for escape. He will never make it to the afterlife, because the ancestors can no longer see him. It’s rude to stare at such an unfortunate. “With this blood,” my sister cries, “I am a warrior of Tern, no more and no less. I will uphold the honor of my Falcon clan, of my Falcon Queen, and of my Falcon blade until my life ends on the battlefield.” She takes the cup from the man and takes a deep draft, then presents it to the Queen. The monarch drinks as well, and when she lifts her head, her lips are stained crimson. A silence falls, and then Everett dips the tip of the blade in her own mortality and the servant takes the cup away. She waves the sword in the air, and the stillness is broken._

************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************* 

I don’t know how long we sat there, shaking in fits of muted, hopeless, helpless laughter. Ezzy stiffened beside me as heavy footsteps came down the hallway, then shrank back into her corner. I stood, mouth drier than dust. I hadn’t had anything to drink in far too long, and I liked my eyes just fine where they were, but I would be strong. I was ready for a fight. I flexed my fingers and rolled onto the balls of my feet, settling my weight forwards and bending my knees. Then I relaxed suddenly, standing straight. Let them think that I controlled this situation, not that I felt threatened by their presence. The sounds died away at the entrance and I listened carefully. I heard an electrical whine and two armored goons appeared in the mouth of the room.

Metal crashed against metal as they advanced towards me and I smiled lazily. _Only a meter closer…_ I pounced at the one on the left. We collided and I had enough momentum to knock him over. I rolled upright and flicked my wrist, trying to pull Oathbreaker to me again. I hit the same mental wall and froze, toppling onto my side, one elbow cocked into the air. The standing guard snickered nastily. “They never learn. You all right, Morris? He hit you a good one.” 

The fallen guard- Morris- got to his feet, growling. “I’s fine. Dis moron won’t be soon ‘nuff dough. Never seen da boss quite like dat before. Ooh, gives me da shivers, it do. Dose eyes of ‘is…” 

The unnamed guard hissed. “Do we wait till he’s thawed out or do we take him now?” I quite resented the fact that he spoke of me like a cut of meat. Then the tingling began and I focused on maintaining silence as my entire body began to burn. My eyes watered as the pain intensified and then dissipated slowly. My arm flopped to the floor and I struggled to hands and knees. 

Morris grabbed the back of my shirt and dragged me upright. “Look like ‘e thawed, Sid. Right, you.” He lifted me in the air. “I gots orders ta knock you mostways dead if you acts uppity. Now I’s tem- tem-” 

“Tempted?” I supplied. 

“Shaddup! Yeah, tempted, to knock you ‘arfway back ta you li’l blip of a planet. I don’t likes you none. Savvy?” He dropped me. I barely managed to keep my feet. 

“I understand.” 

Sid grunted. “Not likely. Grab him, Morris.” Morris obediently grabbed the back of my shirt again and began to drag me out the door. I tried to pull my legs under me, but he was moving too fast and I could only scrabble desperately as I was hauled away like a child's stuffed toy. Ezzy flickered her fingers in a miniature wave as we rounded a corner. 

I lost track of the number of turns I smashed into, staircases I bumped up or down, and corridors I slid through. The clip ripped out of my hair at some point and the braid unraveled, strands blowing every direction. I soon gave up on trying to stand and let Morris tow me along, just closed my eyes and went limp. I yelped as he dropped me onto a hard floor and my head smacked into it, setting my ears ringing. I rolled to my feet and turned to see A’rim behind me, face completely expressionless. “Bind him,” he intoned quietly, and I struggled as Sid pulled my arms behind me, forcing me to my knees as he shackled me to a bolt in the floor. At a wave from A’rim the guards left us and he came forwards to face me, dropping into a crouch. “Oh, Loki.” I understood what he meant about names then. As he rolled the syllables around his mouth, I felt as though he was stroking my mind delicately. _I can do so much more to you,_ he seemed to be saying. _Don’t push me._

We stared into each other’s eyes for a moment, daring the other to make a move. Finally he grinned. “You’ve got guts, I must admit. Now, how long has it been since you’ve eaten? Since you’ve quenched your thirst? You’re miserable, sore and starving. I know how it feels. We’re not so different, Loki. Don’t make me go any farther.” 

I cut him off. “You’re nothing like me.” 

He tilted his head, raising an eyebrow. “Really? I don’t think so. What are you but useless detritus? Second best your entire life, scorned by the man who claimed to be your father. Each time you try to prove yourself, you sink farther into invisibility. And finally, you break. You stop trying to be perfect`and you show your true colors. Then they cast you out and you’re left adrift with no path but the one they expect you to take. You become the monster they’ve always secretly considered you to be. I’ve felt that pain, that desperation. No, we aren’t so different after all.”

I had to stop him now. In a few minutes he’d have finished my favorite trick, talking an enemy into a completely muddled state. “Yes, yes, but we both know I’m not here so you can reminisce about your younger days. What do you want?” 

I had said the wrong thing. A’rim stood up and paced a few steps away from me, silent, then turned, hands clasped behind his back, and smiled coldly. 

“What do I want? What do I want? Ah, now, that’s an interesting question. I want to be free, Loki son of Laufey. I want to stop hiding in the shadows. I want to rule each and every galaxy as is my birthright. I had hoped you would stand by my side. Alas, that is not to be.” 

I nodded. “A sage decision. I don’t tend to make a very good ally.” 

He let out an icy laugh. “That wouldn’t be a problem. I have your name. I’ve taken your magic. You are helpless before me. Yet I am not unreasonable. You were tired and scared when we last spoke. I would be willing to give you a second chance. Will you join me, my friend? Will you help me realize my dream and my destiny?” 

I was quiet for a few seconds before replying. “I know what you’re offering me. I may be a criminal and a fugitive, but I’m not a fool. I have more freedom and power in the deepest cell in the Asgardian dungeons than I would by your side as your lieutenant.”

A’rim stared at me, completely emotionless. “You refuse a second time? Are you sure? Very well then. I will not ask again.” I glared at him, defiant, for a few seconds before he spoke once more. “I’m sure you’ve noticed that you can’t use magic here. That band on your wrist prevents you from accessing it. Don’t try to take it off. It will react much the same as if you, for example, tried to summon a knife. And I really wouldn’t try pushing its limits.” He bared his teeth unpleasantly. “One more thing, Jotunkind. You’ve rather displeased me. I would recommend avoiding that in the future.” He stepped past me and out the door. I heard him mutter “Have fun,” at the guards as he left.

Morris and Sid stomped into the chamber, identical expressions of evil glee on their faces. I was rather reminded of Hogan and Volstagg whenever they managed to corner me. Sid bent over me and released my hands, but as I began to rise, Morris’ first punch sent me flying into the opposite wall. I tried to regain my feet, spitting hair out of my mouth, and Sid hurried over, grabbing my hair and lifting me up until my toes brushed the ground. Morris struck again and Sid let go just in time. I smashed into a different wall and rolled away, trying once again to get up. Sid kicked me in the abdomen and I curled into a protective ball, wheezing for air. The blows began in earnest, metal-tipped boots ramming into my sides, heavy hands scratching and pulling at my hair. I wasn’t sure when I began to lose consciousness, but eventually the pain overcame me and I uncurled, the edges of my vision fuzzing into red. One of the goons grabbed the back of my head and slammed my face into the ground over and over until, mercifully, I blacked out.

I woke to dribbles of icy liquid falling over my forehead. Some made its way into my mouth and I realized it was water. I needed more. My eyelids were gummed shut and I felt a cloth wiping gently at them. I raised a hand and stiffened as it was pushed back. “Hold still, you moron,” Ezzy’s voice told me affectionately. “I’m trying to clean you up. You came back a right mess. What did you do, try to punch A’rim? No, don’t answer that. You’ll tell me later. Let me see. You’ve got a broken nose, a few loose teeth, two fantastic black eyes, multiple broken ribs, a truly astounding collection of bruises, and possibly some internal bleeding. I hope you heal quickly.” 

“Water,” I croaked. “Please.” 

She sniffed. “What does ‘keep still’ mean to you, start dancing a tango?” I had no idea what she’d just said and honestly didn’t care. Cold water was dripping into my mouth and I swallowed eagerly. “Slow down. There isn’t much,” Ezzy commanded. I sighed, but obeyed. 

She finished with my eyes and I cracked one open as she began work on my nose. The cloth rubbed briskly at the blood presumeably caked onto my cheeks and upper lip, and in a few minutes she set it aside. “Right. I can’t spare anything more for you to drink now. Deal with it. Can you sit up?” She put a hand under my shoulders and levered me into a sitting position. “This reminds me of cleaning Ev up after sparring sessions when she was just learning to use a quarterstaff. Same bloody disaster, same impatience to be back doing something.” I forced myself to look at her. Tears glimmered on her left cheek, but her hands and voice were steady as she ran practiced fingers over my face. “This is going to hurt.” She set the cold cloth to both sides of my nose and pressed gently. I heard a horrible grating noise and waves of agony exploded through my skull. She let go and I let out a breath. 

“Ow.” 

She laughed quietly. “Technically I’m not supposed to do that, but I don’t see any medical professionals around to help out. I don’t think I’ve set it wrong, anyways.” I swallowed heavily and tried to smile, but my mouth was generally uncooperative. I breathed deeply once, then hissed in pain as my broken ribs made themselves known. 

“Hang in there,” Ezzy murmured. “Hey, Loki, what’s that on your ankle?” I guessed she was referring to the tracker. 

“It’s my way home.” 

It was the first time I’d ever been truly glad for the heavy metal. The weight was familiar and comforting. Heimdall and Thor could find me. They would come for me. “Okay, but what is it?” she asked again. 

I leaned forwards. “It’s an Asgardian tracker. Thor, my brother, uses it to keep tabs on my location.” 

Ezzy nodded for a few seconds. “Do you want me to take it off?” 

I stared at her, mildly alarmed. “Sorry to disappoint, my dear, but it can’t come off.” 

She laughed again, briefly. “Can’t?” I nodded once. “Then why is there a set of instructions that says ‘Press here to remove’?” 

I looked at the plain, undecorated metal cuff, running my fingers lightly around it. “There’s nothing. Though you got me to look.” 

She shook her head. “You don’t see it? Just here, and here, and-” She pressed on two completely random spots and with a clunk the tracker unlocked and fell away from my leg. 

“I’m dreaming,” I muttered. “That’s impossible.” 

Ezzy didn’t seem to hear me. She was staring at the ring of metal in her hand, squeaking excitedly. “I did it! Ooh, I did something! Master Nared was right after all! Magic….” She hopped up and began dancing on the spot, twisting and bouncing and waving her limbs in the air. 

“Ninth Realm, child, settle down,” I snapped. “You’re making my headache worse.” She dropped the tracker in her glee and I lunged for it before it could hit the floor, wincing as my ribs screamed in pain. It was real and solid, but I could see no magic inscription with a description for removal. Why had everyone lied to me about this thing? Why had everyone told me it couldn’t be removed? Then a terrifying thought struck me. Did it stop transmitting if it wasn’t on my body? Had Ezzy just unwittingly destroyed my only hope of escape? I squeezed the hard cuff in my hands, turning it over. It was blank and featureless.

“Ezzy? Do you usually break into secure mechanisms?” I asked quietly. 

She stopped dancing and turned to face me. “I don’t know? I like gears and things. They just… make sense to me, I guess? I’ve never tampered intentionally with a magical artifact before. It was fun! Do you have any more?” 

I heard only one word of this entire speech. “Tampered? It doesn’t work anymore?” 

She pushed out her bottom lip. “Well, I’m not sure. I kind of muddled the release so it would let me open it, and I don’t know exactly how that affected the transmitting bits, since I didn’t try to do anything to them and it’s set up to-” 

“Enough,” I broke in. “Simple question. Is it still transmitting?” 

She gave me a one-eyed glare of exasperation. “As I was saying, I don’t know. I can check, if you’d like.” Her hair swung into the left half of her face and she brushed it away distractedly, reaching out for the tracker. “Still works!” she chirped, tapping her fingernails on the surface. “I can deactivate it if-” 

“No!” I yelped, pulling the piece of metal away from her. “It’s just fine as it is.” 

She shrugged. “Suit yourself.” As she turned away, I caught another glimpse of the crusted blood on the right side of her face and grimaced.

“Do you want me to clean off your face? You know… with the dried...?” Ezzy bowed her head for a second, then bent to pick up the bowl of reddish water and the scrap of cloth she’d been using on me. 

“All right. It’s really gross, isn’t it?” 

I nodded. “Yes. It is.” I dipped the rag in the water as she pinned her hair out of my way with one hand. I started at the base of her cheek, scrubbing delicately at the clumps of blackish droplets. They peeled off fairly easily and I worked my way upwards, dabbing away fresh blood if I came to it. The girl was silent and still through the entire process, barely even twitching when I accidentally ripped off a scab and sent more blood trickling down her chin. “Sorry about that,” I muttered. I was much closer to her eye socket now, and I wiped pus and even more blood off her brow. The water in the bowl had become rusty brown and foul; I set down the scrap. “I’ll do more harm than good if I keep going.” 

She nodded and let the curtain of hair fall into her face again. “Thank you.” Then Ezzy stood up and walked back to her corner and left me to attempt to ignore the pounding in my head and the stabbing pains in my chest.

I shifted backwards and leaned against the wall. Despite every worry racing through my head, I was exhausted and weak and starving. I needed rest, food, or both. I tried to relax, but each breath hurt, and the deeper the breath, the worse. I dropped my head back, staring at the flat, featureless ceiling, shrouded in darkness, and began to count my inhales and exhales. _Focus on one thing. Your breathing is a good choice; steps are another. Keep that focus until the world fades away._ Mother’s voice seemed to ring in my ears. In, out. One. In, out. Two. I felt my eyelids start to droop and let them. Come what may, I wasn’t about to try and stay awake. I had no idea what time it might be, but wasn’t too concerned. I needed to heal. Sleep, I thought drowsily. Right. The ceiling seemed to spin, then sway, and then I passed out.

Of course I had to dream about Asgard. My subconscious had apparently developed a sadistic sense of humor. It was dark out, and the drapes of most of the windows in the War Chamber were drawn to conserve warmth. Jane was curled in a chair, a blanket wrapped around her shoulders. She was clearly fighting to keep her eyes open. Sif stood behind her, one hand protectively on the back of the chair. They both stared towards Thor and Heimdall, who conferred over a set of maps. I recognized one glowing outline with a blinking blue dot in the center. They were trying to find me. They cared enough to come after me. I was touched. Of course, it was most likely that they just wanted eyes on me again. I still wasn’t about to complain if they got me out of the _Geometric Solid. _Heimdall spoke softly. “Is it worth it? We could lose valuable resources trying to get him out. Would it not be more efficent to destroy the flagship and count Loki’s death as a weight off our shoulders?”__

____

Thor was silent for a moment. I begged him mentally to argue for me. I did not want to die helpless. “Loki is innocent. How would we be any more than monsters ourselves if we allowed him to die in our quest to better this universe?” 

____

Heimdall snorted. “The son of Laufey is far from innocent in many ways. It was his own reckless use of the magic your father sought to suppress that led him to be captured.” 

____

“It was not his choice but ours to send up that beacon.” 

____

“And what of his trickery in Midgard? His foolishness just one day ago with that cup? I understand your sentimental attachment, but he cannot be trusted.” 

____

Thor bowed his head, and his next words were soft enough to be nearly indistinguishable. “I care for him like a brother. He may not be related by blood, but I will not willingly kill him when he has not done anything.” 

____

Heimdall’s response chilled me to the bone. “Everyone knows that the Allfather did not plan to let Loki live until he came before the court in that trial. Who can say how the Trickster himself could have manipulated Odin’s mind? We would be serving Asgardian justice. But come now, don’t be so glum. If we have a chance to save the traitor, we will take it. If not, well, the universe may be better off without him.”

____

I woke to an insistent hand shaking my shoulder. Ezzy stood in front of me, hair pushed hastily behind her ears. “Wake up!” she whispered excitedly. When I opened my mouth to respond, she set her small fingers over it. “I think they’re bringing food. But don’t make any noise or they might go away. I’m hungry.” She let go of me and skittered across the floor. I could see the light reflecting off her single bright eye as she stood in the shadows, fidgeting with impatience. I heard a steady clanking echoing down the corridor. There were at least guards coming. A’rim didn’t seem to care about his prisoners’ well-being. He’d ripped out Ezzy’s eye and left the bleeding mess to get infected. I doubted that he would feed us unless we gave him what he wanted.

____

I swallowed heavily against the dryness in my mouth and rubbed my hands on my upper arms. The dream I’d had scared me. Sure, it was only a dream, but all the others like it had turned out to be true. Were Heimdall and Thor really considering… were they really…? I shivered and grabbed my arms again. _The universe may be better off without him._ Heimdall’s horrible words rang in my head. The metallic noises came closer and I shrank slightly into the wall behind me. _Don’t come for me. Please. Not me. Not me._

____

Two iron-clad figures entered the room and I stiffened. They didn’t bring a tray of food. _Not me. Not me. Please, not me!_ Neither seemed to see me. They cast their gazes around the chamber, silent, ominous, and I could feel Ezzy’s fear from where she crouched in her corner. “Where are you, you little rat?” the one on the right called in a nasty singsong voice. “Come out, come out.” The child shook so hard that her shoulder bumped into a plate and it rattled. “There you are,” the voice crooned. “Come with us now and we won’t hurt you any more than we have to. Be a good little girl and come here.” A flash of light reflected off his armor and illuminated the girl’s drawn face. Her one good eye was shut and she huddled into herself, quivering. I wasn’t sure she’d even be capable of moving. The guard advanced slowly. He was playing with her, enjoying her terror, savoring the torture he was putting her through.

____

I couldn’t sit here anymore watching this. I stood and slapped my hand on the wall. The clear ringing was deafening in the deathly silence. The man’s head turned slowly to look at me. I took a step towards him, then another. His hand stole to the weapon at his waist, but I didn’t flinch or even hesitate. I’d done so many things. I had truly become the monster parents told their children about at night. That ended now. I paced deliberately closer and the blade was quickly leveled at my chest. I smiled and tilted my head to one side. “Really, A’rim. There’s no need for all this. I’ll come quietly. Leave the girl be.” 

____

A’rim let out a delighted laugh and pulled the helmet off his head with his free hand, staring at me. “And you knew it was me. You weren’t guessing there. But what is this I detect? You care about the child?” He flicked his wrist towards Ezzy and she squeaked as the sword flew out of his hand and narrowly missed her ear. I knew I’d given myself away. With such a prominent weakness, I would be easier to control. This was yet another test to find the cracks in my shell. I held his eyes and let my emotions show on my face just slightly. I knew that he’d see the fear, the pain, the anger and exhaustion and longing. Then, as though trying to keep my calm, I looked down and pulled up the mask again. 

____

The second armored figure shifted impatiently and I could tell from the body language it wasn’t someone I’d met. Probably an actual guard, in fact. A’rim was scared of one of his two captives, scared enough that he needed backup. What made Ezzy so special? What could she do to or for A’rim? I lazily stared into his cold, green eyes, so like and yet so different from my own, and slid one eyelid down in a wink. His ruddy hair flowed over his shoulders in perfect, immaculate curls and he slowly lifted a hand and toyed with one, stretching it out and letting it spring back. For a few moments, we were both hypnotized by the motion. Then he turned back to me and grinned suddenly. “We’re a lot alike, you and I.” 

____

I raised an eyebrow. If he wanted to start this conversation, so be it. “I’m not so sure that’s accurate. Didn’t we have this discussion earlier?”

____

“Oh yes, I remember your childish petulance, refusing to admit that anyone could have suffered the same things you had.” His eyes gleamed with amusement and I couldn’t keep a smile from tugging at the corners of my mouth in response. _Is it wrong to hate and love someone at the same time?_ I wondered vaguely, then gave him a second glance and saw that his lips were framing two syllables over and over. My name. Loki. “Out of my head,” I growled, and, as his head snapped up, I shoved him physically away from me. He stumbled and fell and I could think clearly again. I fixed the images of Ezzy’s sightless eye socket and the winces of pain she tried to hide firmly in my mind and just let go.

____

While A’rim was down I jumped onto him, one hand over his mouth as the other searched his waist for another blade. I wasn’t disappointed. My questing fingers found the hilt of a knife and I slid it out of the sheath, bringing it to his throat. He smiled under my fingers and I heard a small whimper from Ezzy’s corner. I flicked my gaze up for a bare second; the second guard had the child on her knees, her head pulled back and a long, heavy sword resting on her collarbone. A’rim bit me and I snatched my hand away. He heaved, rolling me off him. I tumbled to my feet, the knife rising into a defensive stance, but he raised a single imperious finger. “Drop the knife.” I didn’t move. The guard pressed the tip of the blade to Ezzy’s neck. A slow bead of crimson blood formed. “Drop it.” I could see the line where the weapon was poised to slit the child’s windpipe. Reluctantly, I loosened my grip on the knife and it fell to the floor. “Kick it away from you.” I obeyed, unable to tear my gaze away from that one wide eye in a face frozen with terror.

____

A’rim used the toe of his boot to flick the blade into his palm and slipped it back into the sheath. “Kneel. And put your hands behind your back.” There was no mercy, no hesitation in that voice. I stood my ground. There were some lines I would not cross. “Or, if you prefer, your little friend can die tonight. Right here.” I was nauseous as I slowly bent one knee and lowered myself. 

____

Ezzy found speech at last. “No! Don’t do it. It’s only a power play. Loki!” But the guard dug the blade in farther and she fell silent. I pulled my second leg underneath me and stared into A’rim’s flat, unforgiving features. I couldn’t bear to look at the desperation on the girl’s face anymore. Then, hating every second of it, I brought my hands behind me and bowed my head. I had never knelt before anyone like this in my life. It wasn’t an experience I had a desire to repeat.

____

Those polished boots stepped closer and I heard the whisper of steel on silk as the monster lifted the blade out and held it to my chin, tilting my head up until I had to meet his eyes. “You will pay for this, you know,” he whispered. Then heavy steps resonated through the room and I realized further backup had arrived. A’rim dropped the tip of the knife away from me and stepped back to address the both of us. “It seems I have been too lax with you. I had hoped that kindness would show better results and encourage cooperation, but I have been proven wrong. It’s disappointing, really.” 

____

Heavy hands shoved my head farther forward, pushing me down nearly to the floor. Metal closed around my wrists and I knew this was the payment A’rim spoke of. Whoever it was took less care even than Sif as they dragged me back upright and dropped a thick iron collar around my neck. She at least paid enough attention to get my hair out of the way. I heard a series of sharp chimes from behind me as the same guard threaded a chain through the collar and fastened it to some anchor point. A set of shackles were clamped onto my ankles and I nearly laughed. I was tethered to a wall, for Muninn’s sake. It wasn’t like they needed to hamper my movements further. 

____

I raised my eyes and glared at A’rim. He only smirked and shook his head, glancing at a spot on the floor. I flicked my gaze to it and stiffened momentarily. I’d lost hold of the tracker in our tussle and there it was, in plain sight. My only hope. Those contemptible, perfect fiery curls swung as he bent and carefully lifted the cuff. “You were wearing this when you came, weren’t you, Loki? Oh, you also don’t look too happy that I have it. Well, come take it, if you want it.” He dangled it loosely in one hand. I knew I could never get to it and bit back a snarl of pure fury. He tossed it lightly into the air and caught it again. “Well, I’ll keep it safe for you, shall I? I’m rather curious as to what it is, in fact. Until we meet again.” And he bowed slightly, turned smartly on his heel, and left the room, the guards following behind him.

____


	13. ...Unless You Show Me How

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone. I'm sorry this update has been so slow in coming. I've been feeling really unmotivated to write or post in the last bit, to be honest. I'm not all that happy with this chapter and the next needs even more work, so the update will probably be another wait. My apologies in advance.
> 
> TWs: short discussion involving suicidal ideation- though it's probably closer to survivor's guilt

_I’m the first to start cheering, jumping and dancing, and I hardly notice when the shouts of joy turn to screams of fear. Heavy footfalls thunder through the halls and suddenly everyone is pushing and shoving to get out. I catch a glimpse of brownish fur and tusks and glinting eyes and I dash back the way I’ve come. Ev will shave her head tonight in celebration, I’m sure of it, but I can’t help her now. I hear rough breathing and glance behind me. One of the beasts is pursuing me and I double my efforts, my slippers twisting on the polished floor. I hike my skirt to my knees and run like my life depends on it, which it probably does, kicking off the useless shoes as I go. Behind me, men and women are dying but I can’t stop to cry or wish them safe passage to the Ancestors. There’s a tiny mechanic’s room that I can use as a hideout and I dart towards it. As I scramble behind the heater, my head is yanked backwards and I realize something has grabbed my hair. I pull against it, but the monster is too strong. I whisper a prayer and whip out my belt knife, hacking at the multitudes of braids and holding back my tears as they fall limp to the floor. Finally, the last strands part and I dive into the tiny corner. A clawed hand reaches out towards me, but it can't quite touch me. I'm safe- so why are tears rolling down my face and sticking my hair to my cheeks?_

**************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************

I sat back on my heels and stood shakily. I couldn’t see any motion from Ezzy’s corner and tried to go to her, but the shackles and tether stopped me barely three meters from the wall. “Ezzy? Are you all right?” I called quietly. 

“Just leave me alone,” she muttered.

“What’s wrong, child?” 

“Haven’t you done enough already?” she snapped. “Let me be, okay? I’m fine. I’m just fine.” 

I heard the lie in her trembling voice. I knew that something was wrong, deeply wrong, with the little one. But I couldn’t go to her, couldn’t comfort her in the way I wished I could. I shuffled back and slumped into the wall. The manacles on my wrists were too loose and they fell down onto the base of my hands. I allowed myself a brief smile. I was actually mildly irritated because the bindings weren’t tight enough. But the amusement died quickly; I felt sick. Because of my rash actions, Ezzy had nearly lost her life. I might have been punished for what I’d tried to do, but I didn’t think the girl had escaped unscathed. A’rim knew that I cared about her and would use that against me. He didn’t give a crow’s dropping whether she lived or died. “I’m sorry,” I whispered into the darkness. For perhaps the first time in my life, I really and truly meant it.

It was a long, uncomfortable night. I didn’t know whether it was intentional, but I had enough slack to lie down at the base of the wall. I tucked my knees up to my chest and worked my arms around and in front of me, yet even this, more than I had been allowed in Asgard, didn’t help very much. I couldn’t figure out how to begin to remove the bonds on my hands, short of breaking my thumbs, and the darkness did not make it any easier. It wasn’t nearly as cold here as it was in the dungeons at the palace, though I still began to shiver. It wasn’t the temperature so much as the exhaustion I couldn’t seem to shake and a gnawing in the pit of my stomach that was definitely hunger, not fear. Absolutely not fear for Ezzy’s safety, because that was ridiculous, or a worry that I might die here when my brother arrived. _Did Heimdall ever actually persuade him?_ I wondered briefly. Either way, it was not fear. I was not afraid of what might happen next.

I didn’t sleep. I lay curled to try and stop the shaking, listening as boots tromped back and forth above us and Ezzy cried herself softly to sleep. I listened as she began snoring, then muttering, then moaning and gasping, and I wished I could wake her from the nightmare. She’d have done the same for me, that was all. Nobody needed to suffer in their dreams as well. She cried out once, sharply, and then her breathing slowed and the gentle snoring resumed. There was no change in the semidarkness when I guessed morning had arrived. I heard a squeaky noise that was likely a yawn from the far corner and sighed. The girl was awake, at least. I didn’t want to bother her. Last time I’d tried to check on her, it hadn’t been productive. I sat up and sniffed as the chains bumped into my face. Then my jaws cracked in an enormous yawn and I let myself fall back over. Maybe I could just stay here and rest. Ezzy wouldn’t let anyone murder me in my sleep.

I didn’t get a chance to pass out. The hissing, muttering, and growling coming from Ezzy’s general vicinity kept me awake. “What are you doing over there?” I called. 

“Shut up,” she snapped back. That was the end of our conversation. She continued to fuss around for perhaps twenty minutes. I stayed where I was. It wasn’t like I could really go anywhere. The girl let out some very strange, vaguely triumphant noises and padded over to me. I stood and leaned against the wall. The ring of metal on metal made me shudder. I hated that sound. “Loki, come here,” she whispered. “Loki? Where are you?” 

“I’m right here,” I told her in the same tone. 

“Come here! I’ve just found something amazing.” 

“I can’t do that.” 

“Why not? Quit being lazy and get over here.” 

I realized I was going to have to tell her. Apparently she didn’t know. “A’rim chained me to the wall. I can’t come over to you.”

She began laughing. Yes, actually laughing at my predicament. “He literally did that. Like a puppy in the doghouse. Literally…oh, that’s just too funny.” I sighed. There was a reason I’d always been a loner. Maybe it hurt, but it was nowhere near as bad as being mocked. Ezzy swallowed the giggles within a few seconds. “Dust, Loki, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have laughed. Are you all right? Are you hurt?” I didn’t respond for a few seconds and she ran up to me, her expression pleading. “Please don’t be mad. Just… it’s that… don’t be angry at me? Okay? I’m sorry, I really am.” She grabbed my hands and I looked away. “Fine, be that way,” she snapped. “It was your own fault. I can’t believe you jumped A’rim, and I can’t blame him for reacting to the threat.” I pulled my fingers from her grasp and sank to the floor. She was right. I had been a fool, and I had displayed my biggest weakness like a banner on a feastday. 

“Thank you for your concern, but I have not been injured,’ I replied stiffly. At least the child hadn’t been punished because of me. That was something. 

She crouched in front of me, her blue skin ghostly in the half-light. “Do you ever tell the truth? I mean really and genuinely let down the damned shield you keep up all the time and just be yourself?” 

“You are not old enough to use words like that. I don’t even want to know where you heard it, and I don’t want to hear it again.” 

She rolled her eyes. “What, damn? Do you all live under the Soap Rule on Asgard or something? Is cursing forbidden on pain of a mouthwashing? I can say worse and you can’t stop me anyway.” She had a point. All she had to do was scoot back a few meters and I couldn’t touch her. “You didn’t answer the question.” 

“Logically,” I noted, “I can’t answer it meaningfully. It’s a useless question. Whether I lie or tell the truth, my answer would be yes.” 

She paused for a few moments. “How does that even work?” 

I wasn’t about to walk her through the basic steps. “Figure it out yourself. It’ll give you something to do.” 

She shook her head. “Whatever. Hold still.” She began to run her fingers over my face, feeling for any swelling. “You heal scary fast. I think your nose might actually be straight, even. Can you breathe?” 

I sniffed. “Of course I can breathe. If I couldn’t, I’d be dead.” 

“Not like that. Deep breath. I want to see how your ribs are. By the rest of you, you’re probably mended already, but it’s still good to know.”

I tried it and a twinge of pain shot through me. “Ow. No, not healed yet.”

She smirked in what might have been mild satisfaction. “Not a perfect little boy, then, are you?”

I couldn’t look at her. “I… that has never applied to me.” No, the weight of the metal wrapping my body made that clear enough. Whatever I did, I was never perfect. Odin didn’t even genuinely consider me for the throne, despite my best efforts to prove myself. 

Ezzy curled next to me. “Mm, you’re warm.” She cuddled my upper arm and I twitched it, trying to shake her off. She didn’t move and I sighed. 

“Let go.” She harrumphed and wriggled closer. “Let go. You’re pulling me sideways.” I would have pushed her away, but my hands were bound and she clearly needed the comfort that another living body brought her. I stifled a moan as my empty stomach cramped and the girl sat up.

“Are you okay?” she asked, releasing me and setting her palms flat on the floor. 

I shook my head slightly. “I’m fine.” Then I lifted my arms and slipped them around her, gently encircling her the way Mother had done for me when I was young and scared and tired. She startled slightly, then relaxed into my chest. “We’ll be fine,” I murmured and she nodded a sleepy agreement. 

The child nodded off first, her deep inhales and exhales soothing, and before I knew it, my eyes started to droop and I began to yawn. I set my cheek on her vibrant hair and told myself to keep a watch, but I too fell asleep within minutes. Maybe it was Ezzy’s proximity or perhaps it was just my subconscious that gave me the dream, but I wished it had never come. 

It was a beautiful throne room, albeit monochromatic, gilded and decorated with thousands of pieces of amber and topaz and tiny statues. A girl stood in the middle, outlined by a shining golden halo. Around her, hundreds of humanoid figures with skin too many colors to comprehend stared expectantly forwards. A tall woman raised a finely crafted sword to the sky, chanting nonsense. The girl bowed as the woman gave her the sword, but suddenly everything changed. I smelled the hot metallic tang of blood and heard the shrieks of terror. A flash of pure fear flooded me and then I was running away from the beauty and the death. All around me, people fell screaming and it was like a knife was rammed into my heart to hear each one. Amid the carnage, there stood the golden girl, laughing as she swung the blade, murdering the very people who watched her receive it. Then I felt a sense of loss so deep and profound I couldn’t help but cry out. My head swung wildly, as though an anchor had been cut away. The girl saw me and raised the blade and in one smooth motion threw it at me. I could only stand helpless as it pinwheeled towards me, glittering red with blood. “I have cleansed this Tern of the evil of our _kayra_! Karma-Kayra is dead!” the girl shrieked and I wanted to cry, “I am not the Curse of Fate! You are!” but was too scared to move.

Ezzy was weeping softly on my chest and her tears soaked my shirt. I tightened my arms around her, shaking her gently until she blinked and then opened her eye. “I saw a massacre,” I told her quietly. “Was it…” I trailed off, unable to finish, and she nodded and extricated herself. 

“It was a nightmare. But that day I didn’t know that was the last time I’d ever see my own planet.” She sat beside me, hands knotting and unknotting in her lap. 

“Karma-Kayra means Fate’s Curse? Why would people call you that?” I asked. 

She shrugged. “I don’t know. When I was born, the ancestors told the Queen’s mother that one of our family would destroy Tern. It was never me, but everyone thought so. Ev was just so wonderful that nobody could fathom she could do something like that.” Ezzy made a quick, uncertain movement with her hands then dropped them in her lap with a quiet sigh.

I wasn't sure I wanted to say anything, but the words were out of my mouth before I really thought about them. “How would you say Fate’s Charm? Your sister may be a monster, but you certainly aren’t. You survived. Something must shine on you.” 

“Karma-Azrel. That’s how you say it. It’s the name I was given at birth. So, you know, it got corrupted into Fate’s Curse. And the ancestors were angry at me for cutting off my hair. That’s why I’m alive. I wish I weren't! I wish I were dead. Like I should be.” The last words were a whisper so soft I barely heard it. 

I cupped her chin in both hands and turned it towards me. The cuffs bumped together, sending another shiver up my spine, but I didn’t care. “I know. I know exactly what it feels like to just want to end it. But please, trust me, there is a hope. Sif would die to save you, and so would Thor and Heimdall and any of the other of the Asgardian warriors. They’ll find you and take you back to Asgard and care for you as their own and it will be all right again. Your sister may be the curse of your people, but you are their charm.” 

Her eye was wide as she looked at me. “What about you?” 

I let go and looked away. “I don’t have the luxury of sentimentality. I’ve done too much to deserve it.” 

Ezzy poked my shoulder until I reluctantly met her gaze again. “Loki, you told me there was always hope. What’s yours? Maybe I can avenge my family, but you? What do you want?” 

I had so many answers ready, but I couldn’t tell any to her. _I want to ride unbound through the sunlight and feel the wind in my hair. I want to set Yggdrasil itself alight with magic. I want to tell Mother I still love her. I want to prank all of Asgard until half its people are too scared to leave their beds. I want to sit on Hlidskjalf again and watch the Nine unfold below me._ “I want a solid meal or seven and a decent bed. Nothing more.” I stood and stretched my shoulders. 

She bounced up beside me. “Now can I show you what I found?” 

I swept my face blank. “If you can bring it here, yes.” _Nine Realms,_ I thought irritably, _will the child ever stop asking questions?_ I guessed not. She grinned and darted into her corner, scratching for a few seconds, then scampered back over, a ring of rusted keys in her outstretched hand. 

“I doubt any will fit, but it’s worth a try, isn’t it,” she muttered, rifling through the pieces. She selected a smaller one and poked it at the lock on the chains on my wrists. “Maybe a little smaller?” Another key was jabbed at the hole. 

“Slow down and be gentler,” I instructed. She tried again, wiggling the tip gently in. To her great delight, it went in and she began twisting it a little bit. It didn’t budge. 

“Come on, little key, do me a favor.” She tried again and somehow the band unlocked and fell away from me. I stared at her shocked expression. 

“I don’t think that was the key.” 

She completely ignored me and released my other hand, then bent and laid her fingers on the metal around my ankles. They, too, came undone and rattled onto the floor. “This is a really good key,” she whispered, looking at it in wonder. Only the collar was left, and it took even less time to remove. I stepped past her, mussing her hair gently, and strolled into the center of the room. 

The fine silvery bracelet caught the light and I turned back. “Can you do anything about this?” 

She reached for my hand, but hissed as she saw the delicate ring. “I don’t think so. It makes me feel bad to try and talk to it.” I didn’t press her about the bizarre sentiment. Talking to a piece of metal? No magic, then. I knew how to fight otherwise, of course, but I missed it like I thought Thor would miss Mjolnir if it were taken from him. The entire room shook and tilted. We collided and slid down towards the wall at the back of the cell. Ezzy squeaked, grabbing me. “What’s happening?” 

I let a slow smile touch my features. “I think help has arrived. Either that or we’ve run into a meteor storm.” My ankle felt bare and too light and I was seized by a sudden flash of fear. A’rim had the tracker, and I was a known shapeshifter, perfectly capable of turning my hair red. They would think he was Loki, take him back to Asgard, and leave me here. Shaking the girl off, I got up, stumbling as everything shifted another direction, and ran to the entrance. It would throw me back, so if I braced myself properly…. I seized the frame of the door in one hand, slammed a booted foot into the opposite side, and thrust my arm at the invisible field. For a long moment, I seemed to slip backwards, and then with a crack that made my ears ring, my hand broke through. I shifted, caught the frame on the outside with my second hand, and forced my leg through as well. In a few minutes, the rest of me had emerged and I tumbled to the floor. “Ezzy! Get over here!” She came over as the entire world shook. I reached through the barrier and clasped her forearms, dragging her out. With a second crack, she came free and around us the lights dimmed and plunged us into pitch blackness. 

“What did you do?” the child whispered, refusing to let go of my hand. 

“We’re free. Now I need to find my brother. You wouldn’t happen to somehow know the way to A’rim’s chambers, would you? Or to a place where he keeps artifacts to study them, or something like that?” 

She squeezed my hand tighter. “No.” 

I nodded. “Right. Come on then.” Footsteps echoed above us and I turned towards the sound. Stairs. I needed stairs. I groped blindly for a rail and my foot struck a protrusion. I pulled Ezzy to me and lifted her onto my back. “I can’t keep track of you any other way. Hold on, and if you start choking me, I swear to the Norns I will leave you in the dark for A’rim.” She locked her arms around my shoulders and wrapped her legs around my waist. The girl was heavy for her size and I staggered slightly as I found the handrail and ran up the steps. Within ten steps I had slowed, unable to keep the pace and wishing for a light of any sort. 

“Where are we going?” a tiny voice asked from my back. 

“Be quiet. And see if you can figure out how to get a light.” She shifted slightly but didn’t speak again. We reached the end of the stairs and I stopped again, partly to catch my breath and partly to listen for any more voices or footsteps.

I heard a wonderfully familiar sharp tone and straightened. Leftish, and forwards. I walked slowly in that direction, hoping Sif would continue scolding whoever was irritating her. I didn’t see the wall in front of me until I collided with it. The voices paused. “What was that?” 

“Beats me. Can we kill it?” I thought it was Volstagg with her. 

“Sif! Volstagg! Is it you?” I called out cautiously. “Do you know what’s going on?” 

"Loki?” Sif replied. “i cannot believe I'm saying this, but keep talking. I don’t know my way around here. Do you have a light?” 

“No, unfortunately, I do not. I do have an annoying small person, though. Does that help?” 

Ezzy poked me. “Be nice.” I poked her right back, then crouched and let her slide off me. 

“Keep one hand on someone else at all times. You’ll get lost.” 

She grabbed my sleeve. “Who is Sif? You said she’d die for me, but why would she do that if she doesn’t know who I am? That seems kind of stupid. Oh, oops. I’m supposed to be quiet. Please don’t leave me behind, please, I’m sorry. I’ll stop talking. Except, who is Vul-stick?” 

I almost laughed. “ _Volstagg_. Lady Sif, which is how you should address her, and Volstagg are both warriors of Asgard and friends of Thor. Thor is next in line to the throne of Asgard. He's- well, you'll like him. Bit like you’ve described the way Ev used to be, actually.”

“Then he’s a lying traitor who’s just really good at fooling people who betrays you when you trust him most?”

Despite my empty stomach, I had to swallow back a wave of nausea. “No. Thor is what the Queen of Asgard describes as a good person. He would never turn his back on his family or those who trust him.”

I heard footfalls and a hand fell on my shoulder. “Not like you, criminal. Every time we try to believe you, you lie. I can feel you, it’s your voice, and the tracker is nowhere near here.” 

I closed my eyes in a brief moment of pain. “I know. Ezzy here took it off me.” I took one of the girl’s small hands and lifted it to one of Sif’s. “This is Lady Sif. She can help you.” 

Sif took her hand off my shoulder and I heard a soft squeak as she lifted Ezzy into her arms. “Your name is Ezzy? How did you find the criminal? He hasn’t hurt you, has he?”

“They threw Loki into my cell maybe a day ago? I’m not sure how long time is any more. And I don’t think he’s okay, just between the two of us. He keeps making sad noises and doesn’t like looking at me.” 

The warrior sighed. “Can you get to my back? I need both arms.” There were a few grunts and then the girl chirped her readiness. “Loki, give us a light, a flame or something.”

I winced. “I can’t.”

“What do you mean, you can’t? I need a light to get out.”

“I understand _that_. I mean that I am incapable of fulfilling your request.”

“How? Just use your magic. I’ve seen you do more.”

I couldn’t respond. The words were stuck in my throat. Ezzy answered for me. “A’rim put something on him and now he can’t use any magic.” I glanced down. They couldn’t see me, and I was grateful. I couldn’t completely hide the agony on my face, couldn’t seem to blink away the tears that tried to drip down my cheek. 

“Let’s go. What’s the plan?” At least my voice was steady. 

“The all-important criminal actually lets someone else take the lead?” Sif snarked. 

“Get over yourself and tell me the plan before we all trip on your ego,” I growled. I was beginning to worry about my ability to fight at this point. The healing had taken a toll on my body and I hadn’t eaten in any way, had barely had a drink of water in the last day. 

“Keep close and keep up. We’re going to go get Volstagg and head back to Thor and Heimdall.” 

She broke into a lope and I ran beside her. It was a good thing she had Ezzy, because I could barely keep up as it was. I couldn’t breathe properly and each stride jarred my body. I focused simply on awareness. _Where is Sif? Where are the walls of the corridor? Where are my feet going next?_ In a few minutes, Volstagg’s heavy footfalls joined ours and together we pounded blindly through endless corridors, the only sounds our steps, our breath, and the occasional grunt as someone inevitably went straight into a wall or tripped. The darkness lifted slowly, revealing our vague silhouettes, and ahead of us I saw a rectangle of light. A door stood open and Sif raised her hand to signal a stop.


	14. Mercy of a Monster

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again! I am so sorry it took me so long to post this. In my defense, between school starting and computer problems and life in general conspiring to keep me running around like a freshly beheaded chicken, I haven't had a lot of spare energy to write. I would also love to say that this chapter is perfect and beautiful and I adore it... yeah, no. It's somewhat less bad than the last two versions and if I didn't post something, I was never going to. 
> 
> This is the second-to-last chapter in this fic, and while there is a sequel, I have not completed it yet. Would you rather I finish it first and then start posting, which could take a while, or should I start posting as I write, with the understanding that I'm going to be pretty horrible about updating most of the time? Let me know in the comments and, as always, enjoy. 
> 
> Many thanks to wylanvansunshine for beta'ing this- twice. You are a far better friend than I deserve.
> 
> TW's include gore and some disturbing imagery.

_I don’t know how long I huddle there, waiting for the crashes and moans of battle to fade, but when they do, I slip out and hurry back to the throne room. Ev is the only one standing, the sword and garment both coated in thick, shiny red blood. “Ev!” I scream. “Ev!” She turns and stiffens. I can’t read her face, but I bet she’s confused by my hair. “It’s me, Ezzy!” I run to her and grab her around the middle, burying my head in her sweet smelling locks. “Thank the dust of my ancestors. You’ve saved us all,” I sob, glancing up. But the floor is littered with the corpses of our clanmates and I can’t hold back a shriek of grief as I see our parents there, skulls crushed in, blood covering their best clothes. “Well, at least you saved me,” I whimper._

_She pulls me to face her and wipes the tears from my cheek with her ruddy thumb, leaving streaks of gore and snot still on my face. “Don’t worry, Kay-Kay. It will be all right.” I sniff and stare at her. I hate the nickname, and especially the phrase it stands for. Karma-Kayra. I know only a few words of the Ancestral Tongue, but I can’t remember not understanding those. I am not Fate’s Curse, but on her lips now, the epithet spat after me my entire life seems beautiful. Everett hasn’t uttered those words in over a year, not since Father punished her for saying them after Damaret’s death. She picks me up and settles me on her hip, weapon loose in her right hand. I cling to her neck as she walks out of the palace and past the open gates. We make straight for the long silver gangplank of a spaceship and go right up it. I take a glance at the dull browns of Tern’s surface as it rolls up behind us._

****************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************

I swallowed. The bare room beyond had a single eyebolt sticking out of the floor. Blood stained the walls. Ezzy had her face buried in Sif’s ponytail, and she was shaking enough to tell me she knew exactly where we were. “What is this place?” Volstagg muttered under his breath. 

“It’s… an interrogation room. At least, it’s where A’rim tried to convince me to join him.” I stared straight ahead. Focus on one thing. Keep that focus until the world fades away. I couldn’t afford fear right now. 

“Pain,” Ezzy whimpered. “And screams and cold metal and blood.” 

I set a hand gently on her back. “Sif, I’m going to need a weapon. If you have a spare knife, I could use it.” 

She gave me a suspicious glare, but sighed, relenting. “Child, get off.” Ezzy slid down and Sif pulled a pair of long daggers from a sheath on her side. “I brought your butter spreaders from the dungeons. I don’t know why. But if you try to betray any of us, you will find the point of my sword in your chest. Consider yourself warned.” I relaxed as the familiar hilts found their way into my palms. With Oathbreaker’s rougher tan grip and brass chasing in my left hand, Moondark’s polished dark leather, stained black from years of use, and silver crosspiece slightly tarnished with age in my right, I felt almost complete. 

“The third knife? Did you leave it the cell?” 

Sif patted her thigh. “It’s really nice, I like it, and you only have two hands. So I’m taking it.” 

I stiffened. “Return it to me when we’re done here.” Alinea was a foolish bit of sentimentality, but Mother had told me to keep it and I would. 

We advanced down the hall, Ezzy sheltering behind Volstagg’s bulk. “Actually, Sif, why don’t you give Ezzy my knife,” I said softly. Sif slipped the blade from the thigh sheath and passed it to the girl. She took it delicately. “Take care of that knife, okay? I want it back,” I told her. 

She stared at me wide-eyed and nodded. “I’ll be really good to it.” She nicked her finger on the edge and then, oddly, smiled. “Alinea and I are friends now.” I opened my mouth to ask how she knew the name of the thing, then remembered it was written along the guard. She sucked the drop of blood away and we entered the room. 

A’rim stood there, back to us. I caught a glimpse of silver at his ankle and groaned inwardly. He’d put on the tracker that I was not supposed to be able to remove. At least he couldn’t take it off either. I hefted the blades, ready to attack. Sif flicked out her sword and Volstagg raised his battleaxe, but A’rim didn’t turn. “Get out!” Ezzy shrieked suddenly. “It’s a trap! Out!” Sif dove for her, dragging her into the hallway and I shouldered Volstagg away just in time. A steel door slammed into place between us and I knew she had been right. 

I looked into those green eyes and grinned. “I have knives this time. And it’s just the two of us.” 

A’rim didn’t smile. “Do we really have to go through this again? You just don’t know when to give up.” He stepped towards me and I saw a table behind him. I didn’t know what was on there and wasn’t too interested; my attention was diverted in any case as he spoke. “You are right. It’s just the two of us. There’s nobody to hear you scream.” He flicked his wrists and blades appeared in his hands, a short stabbing knife and a long dirk that was really closer to a delicate shortsword. We circled each other, wary, neither quite willing to make the first move.

I feinted sideways and he brought the dirk up to block a blow that didn’t land, then launched into a smooth lunge at me. I dodged it and stepped within range, flipping Moondark and slashing at his chest. He leaned back and it passed barely over his nose. I sensed a presence behind me and dropped to one knee, thrusting up at him as his blade whipped just over my head. He jumped back; I regained my feet and went on the offensive again. Stab, deflect, slice and parry, slash and dodge, until we both stepped back, panting.

“Ready to concede yet, princeling?” His face, dripping sweat, was still grim.

“Don’t know the word,” I said flippantly, and attacked again, scoring a thin line on his upper arm as he backpedaled rapidly.

“I thought you were smart.” 

I ducked under a wild swing and grinned ferally. “Cunning. People are smart, animals are cunning.”

“Oh yes, the little Jotun. Tell me-” But he never explained what I was to tell him, because I threw myself onto my stomach and slid along the smooth floor to get behind him, stabbing him in the calf as I went. He shrieked, just once, biting the sound off immediately, but oh, it was like music to my ears.

“Tell you what, pray?”

“Curse… you…” he spat, leaning against the table. “Unwanted… wretch… should have… died…”

I almost laughed. It was such a feeble insult. He was wearing down, which was all to the better; most fights were won in a handful of blows and this way I could drag it out. “Oh, come on, try harder. Or will you be second-best yet again?”

He hissed in pure fury and staggered towards me. I blocked his clumsy, overenergetic attack easily and scored another hit, opening a shallow cut just under his eye. His riposte caught the crook of my elbow and blood began to well up, mixing with the sweat and dirt already there. I barely felt the heat of the injury and wondered if this was what Thor felt like in a battle rage- invincible, a pure weapon of destruction. If so, I could see why he enjoyed fighting. 

A’rim fell back once more, curling against the wall and holding his leg, which was steadily dripping blood. The slashes to his face and arm were much less severe, though most likely painful, and his breath was coming in short, sharp gasps. Crimson smeared the floor from our feet and the stench of fresh blood hung heavily in the air. It was a grim sight and, I knew, a grim place to die. But Heimdall- Heimdall had been right. I was not King of Asgard. I was Loki, discarded spawn of Jotunheim. Raised the second prince of Asgard- _the spare_ , I admitted. And if I had to die today to save Ezzy- and, as a result, Sif and Volstagg, so be it. “So be it,” I whispered, flicking blood off the tip of Oathbreaker. “So be it,” I growled, stalking closer to the man crouched against the wall. “So be it!” I screamed. And threw Moondark at A’rim’s shoulder. The knife flew true, but he bent at the last second and it missed by a hairsbreadth, striking the metal with a harsh ringing that echoed far too long. A’rim fought his way back upright once again, and now he smiled. He had been faking how much he was actually impaired, and now he attacked with all the pent-up fury I’d taken such pleasure in creating. 

He was a maelstrom of sharp edges and striking points, and with only one blade, I was hard-pressed to defend myself. Any banter was silenced under the crashing of steel. The room soon filled with the cacophony ringing off every wall until I thought that my ears might bleed from the noise, but still he came on, fighting as though he were a condemned man who, on the way to his execution, found a sword in the cart.

A’rim sliced across my shoulder and followed it up with an attempted stab to the ribs, but I hit his dirk away in time, wincing as it bit into my palm. Now I, too, contributed a steady stream of scarlet to coat the floor. As he gathered himself to strike again, I whipped my hand through the air, spraying blood into his face. He yelled and swiped at his eyes with his sleeve, now stained and crusted, and I took advantage of the distraction to snatch up my second knife from where it lay. The blade had a nasty nick that would take hours with a whetstone to correct, but it would do well enough for now. 

We faced each other again, his face a garish mask of red. The hilts of both my knives were slippery and I tightened my fingers around them, waiting for him to give himself away. But it seemed that at last his strength was flagging and he stumbled, favoring his uninjured leg. I bared my teeth and felt the drying blood coating my face crack and flake away. With a single blow to his wrist with the pommel of the blade in my right hand, I knocked his dirk across the floor. With a second, I sent his throwing knife skidding into a corner. In a move Sif would call cheating, I spun, sweeping a leg under him and tripping him so he fell heavily onto the floor. My foot was on his chest immediately and the tip of my blade grazed his throat.

“Yield,” A’rim croaked, raising his hands. “Please, mercy, I beg you. I yield.”

“Why should I show you mercy? You certainly don’t deserve it.”

“No.” 

“And, after all, I’m just a monster. They don’t know the meaning of the word.”

His eyes were empty as he blinked. I realized that he had made his peace with death, the way I had, hanging off the Bifrost. He didn’t move, his breathing steady, as I leaned further over him, spinning Oathbreaker in my uninjured hand. Then I brought the pommel slamming down on his temple and he slumped into a puddle of blood, unconscious. I let out a long breath and walked away from his still form. Now it was only a matter of time until either we were found or we were dead.

A sudden clang startled me and I whirled around, staring at the door, which now had a huge dent in it. _Crash!_ The steel buckled further and I couldn’t help a relieved grin from breaking out. With a final deafening shriek of rending metal, the metal was ripped from its hinges and cartwheeled across the room. Thor stood, panting lightly, in the wreckage.

“Good of you to show up,” I said languidly, expression totally bored, fighting down the urge to run at him and throw my arms around him.

“Oh, Loki,” he half-sighed, half-sobbed and crossed the bloodstained floor in two giant steps, sinking to his knees at my feet. “Oh, Loki, you’re alive.”

“Yes, very. Now let go of my knees, you oaf, you’ll get covered in blood.”

He reared back immediately, staring up at my face. “Norns, Loki, are you hurt? Who did it? I’ll kill them!”

“I’m fine,” I told him, frowning down at his crimson-streaked golden locks. “Up.”

“What?”

“Get up, idiot. The Crown Prince does not kneel at the feet of a criminal.”

“What about his brother?” Thor grabbed my hand in both of his and squeezed. His wide blue eyes were in total earnest. “I thought you were dead, Loki. We were following the beacon, just hoping that you’d be at the end of it, and-”

“Yes, and I’m alive, hurrah. Now get up and stop acting like this.”

He stood, but instead of starting back down the hall, he seized me in a bear hug.

“Oof! Let go, you maudlin dimwit!” I poked him in the ribs, but he only laughed and pressed me closer to his chest.

“I will never let you go, Loki. You’re my brother and I love you so much.”

“You’ll have a hard time explaining this new habit to your mortal,” I told a faceful of shirt, which started to vibrate as Thor began laughing in earnest.

“Oh, brother, I’ve missed you.”

“I’d say I’ve missed you too, but my ribs were glad for the reprieve.” He shifted to hold my shoulders, staring deep into my eyes as though he could read the secrets of the universe in them.

“We may fight, brother, but know this: I will always love you. Always.”

I twitched away, uncomfortable with the echo of my own words. _Never doubt that I love you._ “You know I’m not your brother.”

“What does that matter if I name you so?”

“You’re royalty, Thor, blood is everything.”

“And you’re covered in it.”

“Mm, yes," I deadpanned. "I appear to have upset the natural order of our reunions. What has the world come to?”

He chuckled again. “I will always remember that one time I gutted a bilgesnipe and didn’t wash off before I came looking for you to tell you of my triumph. You were in the library, and when you saw me-”

“I smelled you first.”

“When you saw me, covered in blood and guts, you looked at me very steadily for a moment, then threw a book at my head and told me to clean up before I covered the carpet in bilgesnipe innards.”

“If… you two… plan… on sharing your… saccharine reminiscences… kill me first, please,” A’rim wheezed from the corner. Thor started and, with a wave of his hand, sent Mjolnir crashing into the man’s head, knocking him insensate once more.

“Who is that, Loki? A friend of yours?”

“Unlike you, Thor,” I said, bending to check for a pulse, because it really would be irritating if Thor killed him before I could, “I don’t make friends by trying to kill them.”

“So he is an enemy?”

“Quite.”

“Well, then, what were you planning to do with him? He is at your mercy.”

“Dispatch him with reasonable efficiency and run like the hounds of Hel were after me to get out of here before the entire thing explodes.”

“Explodes?”

“Yes, Thor. Goes _ka-boom_? I swear it’s one of your favorite words.”

“I know what the word means, Loki. I’m not an idiot.”

“That’s debatable,” I muttered, wiping my knives clean on a dry patch of A’rim’s coat and sticking them back up my sleeves before Thor hauled the insensate body of the redhead over his shoulder and set off at a brisk jog. 

“Come, brother! I would rather not be in this ship when it… goes _ka-boom_.”

“I can no longer vouch for your safety in my company,” I growled to empty air, then ran after him, boot heels ringing on the floor. 

Thor and company had come in a war cruiser, one of Asgard’s more practical designs, and I was relieved to see Volstagg’s familiar flyaway red hair in the entryway. As I ducked into the small craft, an excited voice squealed “I knew you were safe!” and a tiny body hurtled into me. I patted the top of Ezzy’s head uncertainly as she clung to me. “I have your knife,” she murmured. 

Sif rose to greet my brother. “Who do you have there?” 

“I’ve found Loki.”

“Yes, I found him too. I was referring to the man on your shoulder.”

Thor nodded sagely, then frowned. “I… actually, I do not know his name. Loki says he is an enemy.”

“And you would take his word?” Sif glared at me, apparently trying to see through me to the lie she thought was underneath.

“Of course!”

My attention was diverted from the two warriors as Ezzy squeezed me tighter. “Why is A’rim on the ship, Loki? I thought it was safe here.”

“It is.” 

“Okay. So who’s that?” She pointed to Fandral uncertainly.

I considered his glowering face briefly and then answered, “He doesn’t like me.”

She clung to me tighter, pointing to Hogan. “Who’s that?”

“He doesn’t like me either.”

I heard a quiet gulp and then she spoke again, now hiding behind my leg. “Who’s that?” Her finger quivered as she indicated Heimdall.

“For the moment, let’s just assume that everyone in here doesn’t like me.” She let out a moan and buried her face in my clothing.

“Great. So where are we supposed to put him?” I looked up at Hogun’s scowl, though whether it was directed at me or the pathetic, still-bleeding form of A’rim was unclear.

“Well, this is a war cruiser, isn’t it? Why don’t we settle him in a nice, cozy cell.”


	15. Homeward Bound

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaand... we're done! I can't honestly believe I've made it this far. It's completely unreal. Once more, a giant shout-out to wylanvansunshine and Scott Richards for beta'ing and supporting me this whole way. I couldn't have done it without them. And thank you all for reading this. It means so much to me. I plan to post Part 2... eventually. Probably before Halloween at any rate. Enjoy the last chapter of Fate's Charm, everyone!
> 
> TW's for this chapter: none that I can think of.

_Space is dark and nearly featureless. I cling to Ev, but she shakes me off and then actually shoves me backwards. I stumble into a solid, warm something and it grabs my shoulders. A man’s chest, then. “Everett? What’s going on?”_

_She ignores me. “Tern is no longer a threat, A’rim. Those who would oppose you are gone.”_

_Whoever holds me bows forward slightly. “Thank you, ah-”_

_“Everett.”_

_“Everett. With Tern, my rise to power will be unstoppable.”_

_“Yes,” my sister whispers. “But at what price?” Suddenly, she turns and nods sharply. “The ship?”_

_“Waiting in the landing bay.” Everett nods again, then strides away._

_“Ev!” I scream after her. “Everett!” She doesn’t pause. “Ondarev!” That gets her attention. “Would Damaret be proud of you? Would she? Would she tell you how happy she was that you destroyed your own people?”_

_“She told me to be myself. To stop letting everyone’s expectations drive me. I’ve finally realized what that means. Goodbye, Karma-Kayra. I doubt we will ever meet again.” Then the traitor walks down a ramp and out of sight, no matter how much I plead and sob for her to remain._

******************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************* 

War cruisers were Asgard’s main battle ships. They also served as occasional cargo vessels and prisoner transports, and, as such, had a few holding cells deep within them, but they were nothing like those at the palace. These were small, grim affairs, large enough to stand or sit in and no bigger. Nor were they well-lit- they crouched menacingly in the shadows. 

In one swift motion, A’rim knelt before Sif and clasped his hands. “Please don’t hurt me. Loki came after me, and he hurt me, and… please protect me? I just need a safe place to hide.” 

I kicked him in the ribs and he fell over, moaning. “Get over it. I didn’t hurt you nearly as badly as you did when you set those thugs on me. You don’t deserve to live. There is a child back there who has only one eye because of you. A child who has no home because of you. A child who jumps at shadows and cries and screams in her sleep because of you. A child!” I dropped Moondark into my hand. “You don’t deserve the mercy of a quick death, either, but I’ll give you that much out of my generosity. And everyone on this ship knows that I have none of that to spare.” He whimpered as he stared up at me and I wondered if it was an act or if he really was that scared. I’d seen him do so many horrific things I didn’t know what to think of it. 

Thor set a solid forearm across my chest, holding me back. “Stop, brother. He can stay in the cells we’re right next to until we reach Asgard, and his fate will be decided there.” Between them, Sif and Thor dragged A’rim upright and hauled him into the nearest cell. He disappeared behind the slowly darkening barrier, but I caught his eyes and he winked at me just once before he was lost from sight. 

Thor put a hand on my shoulder as we went back into the main room. Ezzy ran back to me and I staggered under the impact. “Is he dead?” she whispered. 

“No. He’s locked in one of the cells. Give it a few weeks. There are such things as legal proceedings, you know.” I scooped her up and sat down in a nearby vacant chair. 

“You know the promise you made me?” she asked. I nodded, and for once I didn’t recoil from her one-eyed stare. “I release you from that obligation ‘cause I like it here. There’s food!” She held up a piece of bread and my stomach growled fiercely. 

“And you didn’t bother to share? I’m tired! I just carried you around and fought a monster and you didn’t even get me anything to eat?” I gave her a teasing grin and pushed her gently off my lap; she ran to a sideboard and filled a plate with meat and bread and cheese, then hopped back on me and held it out. 

I took a piece of cheese and did my best not to eat like I hadn’t had food in over twenty-four hours. “Loki, explain who is sitting on your lap, please,” Heimdall rumbled from behind me. 

“This is Ezzy. She’s an orphan from a world that A’rim destroyed and she and I spent a good chunk of time together. Anything else, girl?” She shook her head and stole a slice of ham from my plate. “Give that back, thief,” I laughed and she stuffed the entire thing into her mouth, blinking innocently at me. “Sif, I thought you could take care of her. Since I won’t be able to.” I dropped my gaze to the food and gave up on any pretense on decency. Within five minutes, the child and I had polished off every scrap and she was drooping against me. “Get off if you’re going to go to sleep. Oh, come on.” She snuggled into me and began to snore. “Is there a bed I can put her in? Or a couch? Or anywhere that isn’t me or the floor?” 

Sif stifled a fit of giggles. “Oh, you are so bad at parenting. Come on.” 

“I’m not a parent. I have no idea what to do with a child. She attached herself to me. You know what to do better than me.” 

I set Ezzy gently on a small folding bunk and turned to Sif. “Look, Sif, I know we’ve had our disagreements over the years, but she’s a child. She needs a family and someone to care for her and I can’t do that. Realistically, what’s going to happen to me when I get back to Asgard?” 

Sif considered me for a moment before answering. “Maybe you get locked in the dungeon again. Maybe you get sent back to Midgard. Or maybe-” She drew a finger across her throat and I nodded. 

“I can’t give her what she needs in a cell. Look at her. She can’t come to Midgard with me. And if I’m dead it’s pretty self-explanatory.” 

The warrior stared at the blue-skinned, pink-haired girl and grimaced. “Fair.” Then Ezzy shifted and her hair fell away from the ravaged socket. I clapped a hand over Sif’s mouth as she opened it. 

“That was A’rim’s doing. You can hardly blame me for trying to kill him. Come on, I suppose I’m responsible for telling the whole thing..” She shook herself and followed me back into the chamber where everyone was gathered. 

I heaped the plate again and stood facing the group. “The child Ezzy will need help that I am incapable of giving her. A’rim didn’t technically destroy her planet. Her sister did. She’s faced betrayal from every corner of her life. She needs a stable place to settle and she needs someone to give her a sense of normalcy. We all know what will most likely be my fate. I have to ask you to help her. You should also know that she’s missing her right eye. It’s not pretty, and A’rim, the man you just locked in the holding cells, is responsible.” I took a bite of chicken and swept the room. Fandral, Hogan, and Volstagg stood together and didn’t look directly at me. Sif leaned against a wall, running a whetstone down her blade, but nodded once when our gazes met. Heimdall and Thor conferred in low voices, occasionally gesturing towards me. With nothing else to do, I finished the food, set the plate down, and left in search of fresh clothes. Fandral was slightly shorter, but we were close enough in build. His clothes certainly wouldn’t drown me and he would have an extra set. 

Thor caught up with me within a few moments. “Are you really worried I’ll run away? On a ship this size, you can find me in five minutes.” He clicked his fingers and extended his hand towards me. I sighed, pulling my knives out and passing them over. I knew I wasn’t going to be allowed to keep them. He slid them into his pack, then set a hand on my back and turned me into a room full of bunks. 

“What’s wrong?” he asked. 

I glanced at him. “Nothing’s wrong. Why would anything be wrong?” He sat heavily on a folding bed and motioned that I should do the same. I elected to remain standing. 

“You come out of nowhere with a little girl in tow, try to dump her on us, and then wander off. It would be foolish to think nothing’s wrong.” 

“Do you know where Fandral keeps his spare clothes? I’m rather in need. These are shredded.” I hadn’t answered his question and really didn’t want to. 

“Shelf to your left, third level on the right.” 

I grabbed a tunic and trousers and shook them out. “Realms, he has no fashion sense.” 

Thor nearly laughed, but he stopped himself. “Loki, what is going on? Just tell me. It won’t leave this room. You’re acting strangely.” 

I stepped out the door before replying. “I suppose I’m just relieved that I’m not sealed into a dark closet.” Then I left him and went in search of a quiet place to change. 

Fandral’s trousers were a little short, but I tucked them into the boots and didn’t have a problem. The tunic hung far too loosely on my frame and I frowned, pulling my coat tighter over it. Surely I hadn’t lost that much weight so quickly. He wasn’t fat by any means. There wasn’t anything I could do about it, so I retraced my steps, tossing the worn shirt and trousers into the incinerator on the way, and found the small nook where Ezzy was sleeping. There was a blanket folded at the foot of the bed and I drew it over her. She sighed softly and her hair stirred in the faint breeze, revealing her ruined face once again. I swallowed and stroked the tufts gently back into position. She was so young, so helpless, and yet had seen so much. I pulled myself together and walked away from her as well, in search of my own bed. 

I found a sleeping room that looked unused and entered. It was tiny, which was probably why nobody had claimed it, but I didn’t really care. I pulled a bunk down from the wall and curled up on the stiff mattress. After days on stone and metal floors, chained as often as not, even the scant padding was bliss. I fell asleep almost immediately. For once, I didn’t dream. I woke only when someone began shaking me violently. I sat up, reaching instinctively for weapons I didn’t have. Hogan stood in front of me, face dark. Then again, he usually looked like he was wearing his own personal thundercloud. “We’re coming in to dock. Get yourself together.” I swung my legs out of the bed and stood, stretching. My stomach growled and I followed the Vanir out of the room hastily. Breakfast weighed heavily on my mind. 

Ezzy was already up, stuffing herself on eggs and fruit. I grabbed an apple and bit into it, savoring the sharp crunch and the fresh, sweet flavor, then turned to survey the rest of the room. Fandral glared at me and I shrugged inwardly. “Thank you for the loan. I’ll return them clean as soon as I can.” He looked away, clearly still unsatisfied. Sif nodded once, the meaning clear. _I will deal with the child. Anything to see you in a cell where you belong._ Thor was nowhere to be seen, likely guiding the ship into the landing bay. Volstagg and Hogan were muttering about something that I couldn’t hear, and Heimdall’s gold eyes were fixed on me. I stepped closer to speak with him, finishing the apple quickly. “What’s the plan?” 

He exhaled heavily. “We spirit you and apparently now the girl away.” I glanced at Ezzy. She was obliviously attempting to sculpt Volstagg’s likeness on the counter with scrambled eggs. Her feathery bright pink hair and blue skin, much more vibrant after a decent meal and rest, stood out more than ever. “It’s the dungeon for you- easiest place to put you- but I have no idea what to do with her. Or with the other new friend you brought.” 

“A’rim is not a friend. He’s a war criminal and a psychopath and I would feel safer if I knew he was dead.” 

“Definitely a friend of yours.” 

His golden eyes were impassive when I shot him a suspicious glance. Maybe he hadn’t been joking. Volstagg turned, saw his own visage in the crumbling pile of eggs, and yelled ni what I thought might be shock. Ezzy fled right to me, burying her face in my chest and wrapping her arms around me. “Let go. You’ll get grease all over me.” She didn’t move. “Ezzy, off.” Reluctantly, she disengaged, but didn’t move from my side, peering fearfully at Volstagg. 

“The other minor problem,” Heimdall rumbled. 

“Nine Realms, child, he’s not going to hurt you. Go talk to Lady Sif. Ask her if you can get a bath somewhere,” I told the girl. She glared at me, but left, making a wide circle around the bearded warrior. 

“Sif? I thought she hated you. Don’t tell me you two have been hiding it all along.” 

__

I gave him my coldest, most withering stare. “Oh, don’t worry. She only agreed to take care of the girl so that I could be locked up or executed without a hitch. And you’d have to be blind not to see she’s all for my brother.” 

__

__

The room shuddered slightly as the ship docked and the boarding ramp unfurled. The Warriors Three left immediately, likely to scout for a safe route through the palace. Sif lifted her shield from its place against the wall and slung it over her back before following them. Thor emerged from the back of the vessel and looked at us. “Heimdall, when Sif and Fandral get back, take Loki and the girl down to the cells. Put them somewhere inconspicuous for the time being, then get back to the Observatory.” The golden helmet nodded once. My brother turned to me. “Until we can find a different arrangement, you’re staying in the dungeons. Sif will arrive to take Ez- Iz- oh, whatever her name is off your hands after we deal with your creepy twin. Got it?” I nodded acknowledgement. It was a solid plan. 

__

__

We waited in impatient silence for the scouts to return. Ezzy began throwing grapes at the ceiling and trying to catch them in her mouth. She met with abysmal results, probably because she couldn’t see them all that well. Her hair fell away from the right side of her face as she lunged to the left and I felt rather than saw Thor’s slight recoil. She brushed it back into place quickly and lowered her head, bashful once more. Footsteps sounded as Sif and Fandral entered the room and Heimdall beckoned the girl over. “Everything’s clear,” Sif said. “Nobody to worry about until the entrance to the treasure chambers. I’d recommend the back way.” The giant gave me a stern glare and caught the tiny hand gently in one of his own. _Behave yourself._ We slipped down the ramp and into a wide landing bay. I led the group down a set of winding stairs to the main level and through quiet, narrow corridors to the small servant’s passage that I’d come through with Heimdall after my first return. He took the lead and I grabbed Ezzy’s hand, holding it firmly. All I had to do was get her safely back to Sif. 

__

__

The dungeons were just as stark and forbidding as I’d remembered. The child clung to my side, eyes wide. We passed nobody else, but the setting seemed to intimidate her. Heimdall took us to a back cell and unlocked it. I had to pick her up to actually get her inside. “Calm down, girl. What do you think I’m going to do, leave you here?” I sat on the ledge, holding her in my arms still. Heimdall left, his silence unnerving in the golden plate armor he wore. She wriggled away from me and stood at the transparent wall, staring after him. 

__

__

“We’re stuck, aren’t we.” 

__

__

I got to my feet and walked over to her. “Sif will be along for you in twenty minutes or so, I’d guess. Patience is generally useful around my brother. Why don’t you tell me a story?” 

__

__

She stuck her tongue out. “Lady Sif. And you tell me a story. I don’t know any good stories.” 

__

__

I drew her away from the wall and sat down on the cold stone. “You’ve got me. What about the time that Thor nearly stabbed Volstagg over Fandral’s bread roll? That was funny.” 

__

__

“That isn’t a proper story. Do you know the one about the beginning of the universe? It’s my favorite.” 

__

__

I shook my head. Fairy tales from her home were not things I could give her. I’d never even seen the place. “Tell me.” 

__

__

She settled down into a cross-legged position and began. “Once, before the beginning, there was nothing. And from this nothing sprang the first being. That was the beginning. The first being didn’t have anything to do, so he created thinking. He thought for a while, and then he thought, ‘I want someone to think with.’ So he created another being. But he couldn’t communicate with her, so he created talking. And they thought and talked and thought and talked and thought and talked for eons. Eventually, they had thought about and talked about everything there was to think and talk about at that time, which wasn’t much. I mean, there were only two beings and a sea of nothing in the universe. So anyway, they decided to create something to think and talk about. They created man. Unfortunately, he died pretty quickly because there wasn’t anything for him to breathe. So they created the world and they called it Tern, because they liked the way it sounded. They put air on it, and water, and food, because their man had to have those things to live. They knew that. And they created another man and put him on the world. He died really quickly too, because he was bored. So they created another man and they created the first woman and they put them on Tern together. That’s how everything began. I don’t tell it as well as… as my sister does. Sorry.” 

__

__

I wouldn’t have known the difference if she’d told it backwards and was preparing to reassure her that she did well when I heard footsteps behind us and rose. Sif came up to the cell and opened the door. “Girl? Ezzy, right? Come on. You desperately need a bath. And new clothes and lunch and a nap.” Ezzy rolled her eyes and left, turning to stare at me. I didn’t move. Sif set her hand to the seal and smirked, but I had eyes only for the child, who looked more petrified by the second. 

__

__

“Loki, don’t worry! I’ll save you. You’re coming with us.” She ran toward the cell, stretching her hands to the golden barrier and thankfully the warrior grabbed her shoulders. 

__

__

“The criminal isn’t going anywhere. Don’t worry about him.” 

__

__

I made a shooing motion. “Go on. Go away. Thank you for the story, but it’s time for you to leave now.” Ezzy stared at me, betrayal in every line of her face, her steps dragging as Sif led her away. 

__

__

“I’ll be back!” Then Sif impatiently lifted her onto her hip as they turned the corner and they were gone. 

__

__

“I know you will,” I whispered. “I’m counting on it.” 

__

__

I sat back against the wall of my prison, waiting. Maybe my brother would come tonight. Maybe he would come tomorrow. Maybe in a week. Or he might never come and I would sit here until I died. What could I do about it? Then I shifted on the hard floor. Philosophical musings were all very well, but bruises in awkward places were quite different. I shivered slightly and wrapped my arms around myself. It was mid-morning, I guessed, and I would have a long time to sit here in the cold with absolutely nothing to do until my next meal this evening. I thought the temperature might actually be lower the farther away from the main entrance one got. Or perhaps Fandral’s clothes were just made of lighter-weight material than mine. I stood and walked to the door, staring out into the corridor beyond. It was deserted, as I’d expected. Heimdall had been so careful that we not be discovered that I could not imagine he’d have walked us down a row of occupied cells. Still, some company might have broken the monotony. I laughed bitterly. I’d been alone here for five minutes and was already wishing for a distraction. This wasn’t going to go well. I paced slowly to the center of the cell and stood there, hands at my sides, struggling to relax. In, out. One. Were those footsteps? I whipped around. Nobody was behind me. _Calm down, you overexcited fool,_ I told myself sternly. In, out. One. In, out. Two. Those had to be footsteps! I turned. They were, in fact. At the far end of the corridor, the guard rotation was changing. 

__

__

I ran my fingers down the curls under my ears, pulling them forward to tease out some of the knots. The silver bracelet caught the light and I turned my attention to it, stroking the cold metal gently. It wouldn’t slide off over my hand, and I didn’t have the tools to try to cut it away. I knew what happened if I tried to use magic, but what if I only barely touched it? Would that work? I sat down, bracing myself against the wall. It would just be embarrassing if I fell over and hit my head on the floor. Slowly, gingerly, I reached out to the power. I could almost feel it, but the slick icy wall blocked me from it. It wasn’t as thick now; I could sense the magic roiling tantalizingly beneath the surface in a way it hadn’t earlier. Still cautious, I let my mind creep closer to the wall, which solidified in response. I brushed it gently and, as I’d expected, my limbs froze in place. I hadn’t balanced myself well enough. My head made a resounding thunk as it hit the floor. Did the block do any more than that? Interested, I slammed at the barrier in my head. I got so close. The power just barely touched me before I was thrown away. I tried again and again, but the wall was solid and resilient each time. _So close,_ I murmured to myself. _Just once more._

__

__

I lay there paralyzed for what seemed like hours, attacking the ice that held me back from my magic. Eventually, my muscles began to cramp from the complete lack of motion and I stopped, pulling back to wait for the pain to come and free my body. Slowly, the burning began, searing each nerve, and I sucked in a breath, letting it out slowly as the fire faded. _Fire,_ something within my brain told me. _Fire. And ice. Fire and ice._ I sat up shakily. I’d found something very important. I just didn’t know what it was. 

__

__

Distant clangs and voices told me that I’d spent much longer stuck inside my head than I’d thought. The guards were bringing dinner to the inmates. Of course, nobody came down to give me any. I growled, then stood, wincing at the pain as I moved limbs that had cramped fiercely. I stretched, shaking my arms and legs to restore motion, then, as they loosened, began rubbing gently at the knots. I continued trying to relax my body even after the lights had flicked out, working at the muscles until the soft padding of footsteps startled me. I held perfectly still in the blackness, waiting for another sound. The door glowed as someone came close to it, then hissed quietly as that someone opened it. “Loki?” my brother called under his breath, just barely loud enough to hear. “Time to go.” I forced myself to relax. He had come for me. He had come as I knew he would. I stretched my arm to the side until the runes lit up in warning, then made my careful way towards him. The light faded as I left the cell and I grabbed for Thor’s shoulder, searching for the ground below the dais with my foot. I didn’t let go as we slipped silently out of the corridor. It was too dark. 

__

__

We turned into a small, dimly lit passage and I dropped my hand to my side. “Where are we going?” I whispered. His entire body seemed to relax slightly. 

__

__

“Home. We’re going home.” 

__

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! So you know, this is my first fanfic- if you'd like to comment on the story or characters, feel free, but play nice. That said, constructive criticism is always welcomed. Always. 
> 
> I'm going to try to get chapter 2 out in the next week. It's not like I'm lacking in time to edit right now! Hope you enjoyed.


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